#i will do a more serious line up of all of the cast

[firstkanaphans]

GMMTV 2025 Tier List

Thanks to @rythyme for the template. You can make your own here.

Overall, I was very pleased with this year’s line-up. I think it’s the most solid line-up we’ve seen from GMMTV, possibly ever, and the people complaining about it are simply never going to be satisfied by anything GMMTV does. 

A break-down of my S and A tiers can be found below the cut:

Ticket to Heaven (S): I was raised in a Southern Baptist church which, for those unfamiliar with the different sects of Christianity in American, is basically a cult. I have a lot of unprocessed and unhealed religious trauma that still fucks me up to this day, but for some reason, I gravitate towards shows like this that show gay characters overcoming the struggles I’m still fighting. I’m very excited for this one and I think it’s perfectly cast. It’s giving me ITSAY meets Your Name Engraved Herein vibes and will probably make me cry, but I’m not mad about it.

Girl Rules (S): Toxic Yuri? Yes, please! To be quite honest, I’ve never been a huge MilkLove fan, but this trailer totally changed my mind. I think I just haven’t vibed with the characters they’ve played in the past because Love in this??? Oh my god. She’s going to kill me. All of the girls were hot and horny. What more could you ask for?

Dare You to Death (S): Listen. Do y’all remember that Amazon show Panic? I was obsessed with it for no obvious reason because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even gay, but this is giving me that and I literally cannot wait. I also adore that they’ve finally let JoongDunk switch up their roles so that Joong is the one that actually gets to emote this time because boy does he look pretty when he smiles. 

Cat for Cash (A): Oh my god it’s so soft 😭 The found family feels are getting to me. I think it’s very obvious from this trailer that they only have concepts of a script right now, but I have high hopes that this could be something really special. P’Au was the director of MSP which is one of my favorite BLs of all time. He’s been stuck doing Japanese adaptations this year, which I don’t think he likes or excels at, but I’m excited to see him tackle an original script in the genre he’s most comfortable with. He’s P’Aof’s protege and their styles are very similar. 

Love You Teacher (A): This is my “hear me out” of the day. Age regression isn’t a trope I’m familiar with and I do have some reservations, but boy did this trailer make me feel things. If this was just a basic amnesia plot, it would probably be S tier for me. I think it was perfectly cast and I’m willing to reserve judgment until I see the finished product. P’Dome of Peaceful Property fame is directing, so I’m expecting that same brand of “romcom” where it’s actually not a romcom at all and instead makes you cry every single episode.

Only Friends: Dream On (A): I was going to put this in B tier, but EarthMix fucking on stage in an empty theater bumped this up to an A for me. I fully expect to enjoy this version of Only Friends more than the original because the original stressed me the fuck out. This time, I have no skin in the game and can just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Melody of Secrets (A): I’ve watched this trailer like four times and I still have no clue what’s happening, but I like the vibes. ForceBook proved in Peaceful Property that they can take on a serious script and I’ve always felt that Book especially is highly underrated as an actor. I’m excited to see them branch out and try something different.

Tagging a few people whose tier lists I would love to see, but feel free to ignore: @doublel27, @mbjw, @wangxianinventedromance, @elliebirdwrites, @khaopybara, @moonkhao, @boozles, @scrumptiousstuffs

And everyone else please feel free to participate and tag me in yours as well!

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Gmmtv 2025

So now, that I have time, I'm actually gonna sit and watch the trailers properly. Let's go.

Dare You to Death - The plot is appealing to me, the cast is interesting. I was never a JD fan so if I decide to watch it will be for all the ensemble and the actual plot.

Head 2 Head - My babies! Forced cohabitation my beloved. I'm gonna pretend I didn't see the vision thingy cause other than that this just seems like a cute bl, and I'm here for that.

Burnout Syndrome - OffGun in a love triangle? Gun being fought over by two men just has god intended? I am so seated for this!

Whale Store xoxo - MilkLove is back and I wanna like this one. It seems cute, and drama light. I'll probably be tuning in.

Only Friends - Dream On - The chill that came down my spine when the song started playing. I left my body. With that said, and like I said before, EarthMix is here, so who am I kidding? I will watch. Kinda surprised to see JossFluke already paired in another bl, before the first one has even started airing. OhmLeng was predictable as a recurring pair and I'm always here for Ohm. Leng has a lot to prove being surrounded by all these names.

That Summer - MOND! Mond kissing boys! That's it.

My Romance Scammer - Not in a million years did I think we would get this OhmFluke combo. Dimples is back kissing boys and Ohm is just back. And MarkJunior seem to be here to stay. Also, I love that since we got gay marriage we should immediately tackle gay divorce. Sounds good.

Melody of Secrets - I'm glad they're back playing adults although the dynamic seems to be the same. I wish they changed it up and let Book be the pursuer. I like the horror elements and we don't get enough of those but I don't know about this one.

Love You Teacher - The first half of this trailer had me. I love Perth and he's playing a grown up so I was sold. And then it happened. And I don't know how I feel about any of it.

MU-TE-LUV - I guess we're getting this and not OurSkyy3. Will watch the queers and the rest we'll see.

Cat for Cash - This is just rude. Do they know that cats are my ultimate weakness? I can't watch all these shows, but a show with talking cats? multiple of them?? C'mon. I'm not even gonna pretend to be torn about this one. I will be watching.

Girl Rules - So, Only Friends but make it sapphic. I'm sad to say, I'll probably pass on this one.

Boys In Love - PAPANG!!! The rumours were true and he's paired with Pod in this. All I saw in this trailer was that and the dimples. Who is that kid? Cause he's adorable. This is the obligatory high-school bl, it looks soft and fluffy. Might check it out.

My Magic Prophecy - I will be skipping this one.

A Dog and a Plane - What a mess of a trailer. But do I care? Not even a little. It's TayNew so I'll be watching with bells on.

Me and Thee - This show will be the true test of how shallow I can get. Will I start a show because Est was wearing glasses in the trailer? Only future me will know. Look, PondPhuwin can play, we know this, but I don't know if I want another show with them so soon. At least they're playing different roles, so there's that.

Wu - Who was saying this wasn't bl? Did you not see the golden thread? And the fate talk? And the looks? And well, everything? It's a bl. I don't know about this one mostly because I don't know the actors. Although tumblr is doing its job well and I'm this close to binging the frenemies show so maybe I'll reevaluate.

Memoir of Rati - I am so easy, it's embarrassing honestly. They so pretty, the scenery is so pretty, historical bl. Sold!

Ticket To Heaven - So many flashbacks to catholic school. It looks good, which doesn't surprise considering it's Aof. I'm glad GeminiFourth are back playing more serious roles. I am really intrigued by this one but also don't trust it completely for some reason. I don't know yet.

Yeah, I'm a sucker. I will be watching most of the first episodes of this line up in like a year when they actually get made. Probably not gonna stick with a lot of them but we'll see. As it's becoming obvious, I'm easy.

Also just a fun fact I guess, and as @lurkingshan as said here, with these shows, 4 couples will hit 5 series as a pair. OffGun, FirstKhao, ForceBook and EarthMix, even though that last one I'm counting Ossan's Love which is also not released yet.

And another thing, of the Gmmtv 2024 QL shows, 7 have yet to premiere. Thame Po, will premiere December 13 but the other six don't have dates yet. They are : My Golden Blood, Ossan's Love, The Ex-Morning, Us, Sweet Tooth Good Dentist and Revamp. So yeah, we're not gonna see any of these new shows anytime soon. Although I'm putting my money on the OffGun series being one of the first to premiere in this line up.

All the trailers and posters for gmmtv2025 can be found here.

[sam-sessington-the-third]

embracing my furry allegations

[seilon]

i know im not alone on this but i also know this statement is like waving a stick at a hornets nest. my overall memories and nostalgia related to hetalia are generally not bad and i think it may have saved a depression-riddled middle school aged me from being lured towards way darker and more mentally damaging content or online groups

[pureconancommentary]

THE MAGNIFYING GLASS AGAIN, WHY. IT REALLY FEELS LIKE UNCANNY VALLEY DETECTIVING, LIKE YEAH IT'S THE STEREOTYPE TOOL, BUT YOU NEVER USE IT.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[anniebeemine]

okay, big brown eyes, whatever you say- s.r. x reader

“Why don’t you ever argue with me?”

The question catches you off guard. You glance at Spencer, who’s standing there, awaiting your answer, his brow slightly furrowed as if he’s been pondering this for a while. You blink a few times, shrugging casually as you settle back against the couch.

“There’s nothing to argue about,” you say, the words coming out simple, matter-of-fact.

But Spencer doesn’t like your response. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense and the way his lips press into a thin line. He crosses his arms, his eyes shifting away from you and toward the floor as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I know you hate it when I leave my socks everywhere,” he says, his voice quieter but insistent. “And when I leave the dishes next to the sink instead of in it. I see you tense up when I do it, but you never say anything. Why don’t you just tell me?”

You’re trying to stay engaged in the conversation, but your focus begins to drift. The way the sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow on Spencer, draws your attention. His face is lit up in such a way that it highlights the specks of hazel in his eyes, the soft planes of his cheekbones, and the curve of his lips as he speaks.

He looks so beautiful when he talks, even when he's frustrated. There’s something about the way he’s so earnest, so concerned about something as mundane as socks and dishes that makes you smile. You love how much he cares, even when it’s over the little things.

Before you know it, you're smiling at him without even realizing it.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Spencer’s voice breaks through your thoughts, snapping you back to the conversation.

Your gaze shifts back to his face, and you realize you’ve completely drifted off into your own world.

“I, uh,” you stammer, feeling your cheeks flush slightly, “I wasn’t... I mean, I was listening, but...”

“But you’re smiling,” he says, confused but amused, his frustration beginning to soften. He raises an eyebrow, leaning in a bit closer. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. “I was just... I don’t know, I was thinking about how much I love you. You’re standing there all serious, trying to figure out why I don’t argue with you about socks and dishes, and I just... I love that you care about that. And I got distracted by how good you look in the sunlight.”

Spencer’s expression softens even more, a small, lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He shakes his head slightly, but there’s a warmth in his eyes now. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I know,” you reply with a grin, feeling the tension from the conversation melt away.

“But seriously,” he says, his tone gentler now as he sits down beside you. “You can tell me when something bothers you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold it all in just because you don’t want to argue.”

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “I know. And I promise I’ll try to be better about that. But sometimes... it’s not worth arguing over. I just enjoy being with you, and the little things don’t matter as much when I think about how much you mean to me.”

Spencer wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Well, if that’s the reason, I guess I can live with a few unspoken complaints about my socks.”

You chuckle softly. “Just a few.”

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[pucksandpower]

Favoritest People

Charles Leclerc x Reader x platonic!Max Verstappen

Summary: drunk you tends to get quite a bit emotional and clingy … even with your boyfriend’s rival-turned-friend

The bass thumps through your body as you sway on the dance floor, cocktail in hand. Monaco’s most exclusive club is packed tonight with beautiful people laughing, drinking, and dancing. The flashing lights cast colorful shadows across gleaming skin and expensive clothes.

You grin dopily at Charles, reaching out to straighten his shirt collar. “You look so handsome tonight, babe.”

He chuckles, taking your hand and spinning you into his arms. “And you look gorgeous, as always.” His voice is low in your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

Giggling, you loop your arms around his neck as you sway together to the rhythm. “I’m having such a good time. This is so much fun!”

“Good, I’m glad.” Charles presses a kiss to your forehead, his thumb stroking along your jaw. “But maybe take it easy on the drinks, yeah? Don’t want you getting too sloppy.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “I’m finnnne. Don’t be such a worrywart!” Sticking out your tongue, you spin away from him and do a clumsy shimmy, nearly sloshing your drink all over the both of you.

Charles just shakes his head fondly, steadying you with a hand on your waist. You catch Max’s eye from across the dance floor and wave enthusiastically. He lifts his glass to you with a lopsided grin.

Abandoning Charles for the moment, you weave through the crowd toward Max, stumbling a bit in your high heels. By the time you reach him, you’re slightly out of breath but beaming. “Maxieeee!”

He raises an eyebrow at your drunken exuberance. “Having a good night, I see.”

“The best!” You throw your arms around him for a tight hug, getting some of your drink on his expensive shirt in the process. “I just love you so much, you know that?”

Max laughs, patting your back. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Pulling back, you grab his face between your palms so he has to look you in the eyes. “No, like, I really really love you. You��re the sweetest guy ever and those stupid fans who boo you are so messed up. If I ever hear anyone booing you again, I’m gonna fight them! With my bare hands! I’ll claw their eyes out!”

Your earnest defense of him only makes Max laugh harder, lines crinkling around his eyes. “Wow, my very own bodyguard. I feel so safe now.” He shoots an amused look over your shoulder at where Charles is hovering uncertainly.

“I’m serious!” You insist, giving his cheeks a shake. Tears are starting to prick at your eyes, a side effect of how emotionally open you become when intoxicated. “You’re just … you’re the best, Maxie. The absolute best. Those people don’t deserve you. You deserve the world.”

Max’s gaze softens as your alcohol-tinged words slur together. “Hey now, no need to get all weepy on me.” He uses his thumbs to wipe at the dampness on your cheeks. “I’m good, I promise. More than used to a few boos by now.”

You hiccup, arms tightening around his neck as you bury your face against his chest. “Still shouldn’t happen. You’re too precious for this world.”

A warm hand settles on your back. “Alright, alright, I think someone’s had enough fun for one night.” Charles gently tries to extricate you from Max’s embrace.

“Nooo!” You cling stubbornly to your friend. “I’m not done telling Maxie how much I love and appreciate him! Don’t take me away!”

Max snorts, wrapping one arm around your waist to keep you from toppling over. “It’s okay, Charles. She’s not bothering me at all. I think it’s sweet.”

“That may be, but we both know how much of a sloppy drunk she can be.” Charles glances pointedly at the damp spot on Max’s shirt. “I don’t want her embarrassing you or getting sick all over the place.”

You finally lift your head to pout at your boyfriend. “I would never! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As if to prove your point, you sway unsteadily on your feet, having to clutch at Max’s biceps to stay upright. Both men eye you skeptically.

“Sure, ma belle. Just let me get you home before you really make a scene, okay?” Charles reaches for you again, more insistently this time.

Evading his grasp, you stumble back a step, shaking your head adamantly. “No! I don’t wanna go home yet! The night is still so young!”

You spread your arms out, twirling in a wobbly circle that has both Charles and Max tensing like they expect you to topple over at any second. When you come to a halt, Max’s chest is suddenly right in front of you.

Stretching up on your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck and plant a smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving a ruby imprint of your lipstick behind. “I love you, Maxie!”

“Whoa, okay!” Max goes cross-eyed for a second at your proximity, hands fluttering uncertainly by his sides. “I, uh, I love you too, but — Charles? A little help here, mate?”

Charles is at your side in an instant, trying to unwrap your limbs from around Max with minimal grabbing or yanking. “Come on, mon cœur, let’s go. You’ve had more than enough fun tormenting poor Max for one night.”

“M’not tormenting!” You protest, slurring. You pat clumsily at Max’s face, smearing more lipstick in the process. “Just telling the truth! My favoritest person!”

“We both know that’s not true,” Charles says with a squeeze of his eyes, finally managing to dislodge you from Max. He sweeps you into his arms bridal style. “Say goodnight to Max, chérie.”

“Nooo! Put me down!” You kick your feet halfheartedly, craning your neck to mouth “love you” at Max one more time over Charles’ shoulder.

Max just waves, that amused grin still playing around his lips as Charles carts you away. You pout, collapsing back against your boyfriend’s chest with a grumpy huff of, “You’re the worst.”

“So you keep telling me.” Charles presses a kiss to your slack mouth, not seeming bothered in the slightest by your drunken ire. “But you’ll thank me for this tomorrow when you don’t have a raging hangover.”

Since Charles is clearly intent on removing you from the club no matter how much you protest, you decide to bask in the warmth and closeness of being carried. Nuzzling into the curve of his neck, you mumble, “I really do love Max so so so much though.”

“I know you do.” Charles’ thumb strokes over your cheek, touch unbearably tender. “In your own weird and oddly endearing way.”

You whine, squeezing your eyes shut against the harsh lights of the club’s entrance as Charles carries you outside. “M’not weird! Just honest when I’m drunk!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, amused.

The sounds of thumping bass and crowd chatter fade as he deposits you carefully in the backseat of the waiting car. You immediately curl onto your side, blinking up at him owlishly from the leather seat.

Charles brushes the hair back from your face with a soft smile. “I really do adore you, you know? Even when you’re sloppy drunk and mauling Max with affection.”

Biting your lip, you grab his hand and turn your face to press a kiss against his palm. “I adore you too, Charlie. The mostest.”

His dimples appear and he leans down to catch your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. When he pulls away, he looks almost dazed for a moment before giving himself a shake. “Get some rest, mon ange. I’ll get us home safe and sound.”

You hum agreeably, already feeling sleep start to tug at your eyelids. Just before you drift off, you slur one last thing.

“Y’know you’re still my favoritest person though, right? Always an’ forever, baby.”

Charles ducks back into the car to place one more tender kiss on your forehead. “I know. Always and forever.”

[standfucker]

Rotation

Characters: Kid, Killer, Heat, Wire

Reader: cis fem

Word Count: 24k

CW: explicit NSF.W content, recreation drug use, aphrodisiac, gangbang, oral (giving and receiving), double penetration, triple penetration, anal, voyeurism

Summary: After finally opening up to the crew, a recent personal victory has you all sailing to your home island to celebrate. However, you accidentally smoke the wrong strain, one thing leads to another, and you become the next object in the rotation.

Ao3 Link

Mesiba Island was famous far and wide for being a party island. Casinos, clubs, bars, brothels, even a natural hot spring–there was something for everyone. Liquor flowed like water, and drug laws were the laxest in all of the Grand Line. As your homeplace, you were used to the chaos and violence. Crimes of passion were commonplace, and death was regular news. 

Still, somehow you never expected it to happen to you.

A visiting pirate killed a close friend of yours, and by the time you’d heard about it, he’d fled the island. You were able to find out two vital things: He was heading further into the Grand Line, and he had a crew.

You were going to kill him. Of that, you were certain. But you also knew you couldn’t do it on your own. So, only hours after you’d learned of your friend’s death, you’d looked over the pirate crews that had currently docked on the island and approached the strongest one there.

“I want to join your crew.” You spoke firmly, standing tall, trying to show how serious you were.

“Oh?” Eustass “Captain” Kid looked down his nose at you. “Why should I let you?”

You gritted your teeth. “I want to kill someone who’s traversing the Grand Line. He’s got a crew. So I need to travel with one, too. And it needs to be a crew who’s not afraid to get dirty. The meaner the better.”

Kid wasn’t impressed. “And what makes you think you can handle sailing with us, pipsqueak?”

“I’m strong.”

“You’re puny,” Kid scoffed. He did have over a foot of height on you, but it didn’t scare you. Size difference was rarely an issue for you in fights. “And you use knives,” he continued, gaze falling to the rows of short blades strapped to your hips, “meaning you have to get in close range to your opponent, where you’ll get torn apart.”

“If they can keep up,” you argued. What you lacked in brute force, you well made up for in speed. “I can fight, Kid.”

The man cast a shadow as he leaned over you, narrowed eyes taking in your determined expression, assessing something–you didn’t know what. Then he smirked and stood up straight.

“Tell you what,” Kid jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward a man in blue who was almost as big as he was. A blue and white mask entirely concealed his face, thick blond hair spilling behind it that reached the back of his knees. Large hands curled around heavy metal gauntlets that were attached to wicked-looking scythes, currently folded back out of the way.

“If you can survive three minutes with Killer, I’ll let you join,” Kid said, looking smug. Like he thought you would be intimidated.

“Masquerade Rapunzel over there?” You glanced at the masked man. He was built a little leaner than Kid, but still impressive. Nothing you couldn’t handle, though. And if you couldn’t do this much, then how could you avenge your friend? You raised your chin confidently. “Bet.”

Killer ended up surprising you with his speed, but you were more agile. As a bigger target, he had to block your strikes while you needed to dodge his. The swings of those scythes packed a lot of force behind them, it was too risky to attempt to block. You were certain it would only take a single, direct hit to mortally injure you. But you were very good with your knives, and you were efficient above all else: your knowledge of anatomy taught you the best points to aim for on the human body.

Three minutes later, you’d stabbed Killer right below the chest. He almost decapitated you afterward, though, suddenly moving far more quickly than before. You jerked back at the last moment, and his blade tore you open to the bone, from your clavicle to your shoulder. Now second-guessing your chances of survival, you nonetheless prepared to strike back–and Kid called time. You and Killer were both hurting, but you were alive.

You expected them to be angry, but neither Kid nor Killer seemed bothered about either of the frankly concerning injuries. Moreover, Kid was impressed enough by the fight to honor his word. Their ship’s doctor patched you both up, and that night, you became the newest member of the Kid Pirates.

You didn’t open up for months.

You didn’t talk, much less hold conversations, and you mostly kept to yourself. Part of it was the fresh grief of losing your friend. Part of it was difficulty adjusting to the new lifestyle, having never sailed before. But mostly, you figured there was no point–after you got your revenge, you’d be parting ways with the Kid Pirates. It stayed in the back of your mind the entire time: This is temporary.

“Hey, Y/n, watcha doin’?” House paused by where you sat against the mast, your weapons laid out on your lap.

“Sharpening my knives,” you responded without looking at her.

“Didn’t you do that yesterday?”

“I like knowing they’re sharp.”

House glanced to the side, fiddling with her fingers. “...Oookay. I’ll leave you to it, I guess…”

And so it went. But months slipped by and turned to years, and living and fighting with the same people for that long had an effect that even your stubborn self couldn’t resist. It was in the way Wire dropped his coat onto you when you were shivering from an unexpected cold front, the garment gigantic and more like a blanket in comparison to you. It was in the way Killer found out your favorite food and served it for dinner after catching you crying one afternoon in the crow’s nest. It was in the way the girls in the crew drew you into their group (“us pirate girls gotta stick together!”) and let you jam with them on your off hours. Slowly, like a flower growing after the last winter, you opened up to the others’ warmth.

And heaven help them when you did, because once you got comfortable, you stopped censoring yourself. As you became friendly with the crew and got past your grief, your original personality started to shine through, and whatever thought came to mind was fair game. You started talking to the crew like you did to your friends back home–which, for Mesiba Island natives, typically meant being crass and lewd. You couldn’t help it, it was just in your nature. Maybe your original friend group took it too far, though.

Case in point: Heat looked over your shoulder at a letter you were writing one day, and commented on your (admittedly awful) handwriting.

“Can your friends back home even read what you send them, or do you all write like that?”

You replied without thinking. “Don’t bully me, Heat, I’ll cum.” 

Heat’s entire body flinched like he was hit, and he blushed all the way down to his neck, contrasting brilliantly with his tattoos. Completely disarmed, he opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words.

Oops, that might have been a bit much for him. For all that his appearance might suggest, Heat was one of the most reserved members of the crew. You just returned to your letter, adding the exchange to the list of things you were writing about. You’d leave out how cute the blush looked on Heat, though, saving that thought for yourself to enjoy privately.

Then there was the time Kid was having drunken arm wrestling matches with some of the guys. You slid into the seat across from him and propped your elbow on the table, equally inebriated and mostly joking–his arm was three times as thick as yours, after all.

Kid shot you a lazy smirk. “Don’t even bother. You’ll just be a disappointment.”

“You sound like my father,” you joked. “Careful there, Captain. I might develop a complex.”

Brow raising, he grabbed your outstretched hand, dwarfing it in his. “Sounds like you already have one.”

“It is what it is.” Your gaze dropped to his arm, to the flexing of the thick muscle rippling underneath the skin, a little too intoxicated to catch yourself checking him out. Kid didn’t miss it, looking smug.

He squeezed your hand, the strength behind his grip setting butterflies free in your stomach. “Give it your best shot, then, pipsqueak.”

You pushed with all your might, straining and struggling, even leaning your body weight into his arm like you weren’t supposed to. You barely made any headway, Kid’s arm only moving back a little bit. He just watched you through half-lidded eyes, unbothered, a small smirk showing his amusement at your feeble attempt.

Maybe it was just the alcohol warming your blood, but the struggle seemed to affect you a little more than it should have. You could have chalked up the pounding of your heart to the physical exertion of the attempt, and not the stark power difference so obviously displayed between you and Kid, but it would have been a lie. The way your gaze kept ending up on his massive arms was proof enough of that.

“Hmph.” Kid waited another minute, then slowly and easily pushed your hand down until it pressed into the table. He did not let go. “Weak.”

“Bleh,” you stuck out your tongue, even though you had fully expected the result. “Well, you don’t need a lot of force behind your attacks if your knives are sharp.” You patted the knives at your hip and smirked. “Flesh parts easily for the sturdy blade.”

Kid’s grip on your hand tightened a little, and you went rigid at the way his voice dipped low. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Y/n?”

“Intimately so,” you shot back, feeling your cheeks getting warm, the sensation of his hand over yours suddenly overwhelming. Unused to feeling shy, you quickly covered it up with banter. “While I also enjoy holding your hand, Captain, I’ll be needing mine back.”

Kid’s eyes widened before he let go, drawing his arm back a bit too fast. Got him.

You stood, deciding tactfully not to point out his reaction, instead offering him a sheepish grin. “Thanks for indulging me, anyway. G’night, Captain.”

Maybe you had imagined the faint dusting of red on his cheeks, but as you walked away, you were determined not to think about it. Teasing was fine with you, so long as it stayed strictly verbal–you had no business getting close in that sort of way with anyone, no matter how drawn you felt to them. There were a few people in the crew that you liked being around a little more than you should have. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that they were the only ones who could kick your ass, your brain immediately going to unsavory places whenever they bested you while sparring.

Technically it made sense, given that they were the strongest four: Kid, Killer, Wire, and Heat. You ranked fifth in terms of combat ability (though other crewmates had seniority over you due to experience,) earned one day after a long, exhausting match with Gig. You had barely come out on top, literally, by perching on his back and strangling him with his own necklace. You were certain you could at least handle Heat after that, but when you later challenged the fire-breather, it only took a short while before he had you pinned to the floor with a hand wrapped around your neck, your knives knocked out of reach.

Heat opened his mouth, curls of smoke rising out in threat, and you tapped out, trying not to think about the feel of his fingers around your throat.

“Okay, okay, you win,” you sighed in defeat. “Hurry up and let go before you awaken something in me.”

Heat pulled away quickly, blushing, though it could have also been from exertion. It looked good on him either way, even combined with the annoyed look he gave you. 

“You don’t even need to fight your opponents. You could just run that colorful mouth of yours, and they would run away,” he grumbled, offering you a hand.

You took it, and Heat pulled you easily to your feet. He must have still felt flustered, though, because he pulled a little too hard, making you stumble into him. He caught you, steadying you by the arms, and when your gazes met, you both froze, realizing how close you were.

Heat’s eyes flickered back and forth across your face, his blush deepening when he glanced at your lips. Suddenly the pounding of your heart had nothing to do with exercise. Caught off guard and anxious, you played it off the only way you knew how. “You gotta at least buy me dinner before talking about my mouth, sir.” 

Really, you weren’t trying to make it worse. You just couldn’t help yourself, always talking too much whenever you got nervous. The words only served to thicken the tension, the feeling of his hands on your arms exceedingly hot all of a sudden. His entire body seemed to give off heat, more so than usual, and your stupid mouth kept going, revealing every stray thought in your brain. “Oh, wow, you’re really warm. You’d make an excellent bedmate on a cold night.”

“I…” Heat found himself at a loss for words. He let go of your arms but otherwise remained frozen, and you wondered if he was picturing the same thing you were–the two of you curled up together, bodies pressed close, lazily breathing in each other’s scent. Maybe your hands would start to wander…

“Sorry. Forget I said anything.” You looked away, unable to harbor the thought while also meeting his eye, nervously rubbing your arm where he had been touching you. “Um, good fight, yeah? Maybe I’ll pin you next time. That would be an exciting change.”

Again with unintentionally making things worse. The sight of Heat’s Adam's apple bobbing with his swallow finally spurred you to leave, not wanting to twist yourself up in unnecessary desire any further if you could help it.

You were, to be honest, caught off guard by your attraction. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise–you knew what you liked, and they all fit the bill in their own way–but you had joined the crew during a grieving period. At the time, and for a long while after, you had felt nothing toward the crew, much less interest. The feelings snuck up on you as you came out of your shell, and they were getting increasingly harder to ignore.

The Victoria Punk anchored in a secluded cove one hot day, and most of the crew opted to go for a swim. You kicked off your shoes carelessly in your eagerness to join, each one landing on a different spot on the pile the crew left behind. Killer went to retrieve them, going to line them up neatly with the rest–one of his odd, compulsive habits–and the rare sound of his huff of suppressed laughter made you pause, his deep voice speaking up a second later. 

“What the hell is this?”

You turned around to see him holding up one of your shoes. Killer had bulked up significantly in the time since you’d set sail with the Kid Pirates, and the sight of the comparatively small item in the palm of his hand was, to be fair, a little ridiculous.

“My shoes?” You narrowed your eyes, having a feeling you knew where this was going and not caring for it at all.

“No way your feet are this small.” His head turned to you, mask tilting down, and you knew he was looking at your feet. You felt a strong urge to cover them, which was dumb–why should you feel shy about your feet, of all things? But Killer had inadvertently found something you were self-conscious about.

“Whatever! Stop looking, you weirdo.”

Killer was usually hard to read, even after knowing him that long. But right then, you couldn’t help but feel like he was enjoying getting a rise out of you, because he continued. “These are shoes for ants.”

“Shut up, Killer!!” You snapped, face flushing warm. “They are proportionate to my height, thank you very much! F–” You stopped yourself before a ‘fuck off’ slipped out, mindful of your rank. He wouldn’t appreciate the disrespect.

Killer noticed, though, as astute as ever. “What was that?”

From the tone of his voice, you could tell he was only messing with you, not actually upset. That only made it worse, though, your chest getting tight in response.

“Nothing! You didn’t hear anything.” You crossed your arms in a subconscious attempt to cover yourself, feeling exposed even though your swimsuit wasn’t revealing.

Another brief huff was audible from under his mask, and then Killer set down your shoe and approached you. He didn’t stop until he was fairly close, only a few inches separating your bodies, and you resisted the urge to step back, heart thumping in your chest as you looked up at him.

Killer rested a hand flat on top of your head, like he was measuring your height. You barely reached the top of his chest. In fact, you were at the perfect height to shove your face between his giant pecs, a thought that your brain took off with at an alarming speed before you could hope to suppress it. 

You made a face at him, trying very hard to look annoyed rather than affected.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Killer hummed, “given you’re so tiny.”

“I am not! I’m not even the shortest one on the crew!” you protested. “Of course everything would seem small to you! You’re stupidly huge.”

“Stupidly huge?” Killer repeated, that edge of amusement never leaving his voice.

“Yes,” you grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off your head, and paused at the sight of it. It was as big as Kid’s. Without thinking, you raised your other hand to press against his, comparing the size directly. “S-See? Look at these–these flippers of yours.”

Killer huffed again. You wondered why he never laughed outright, but it still made your heart pick up speed. Your hand looked like a child’s compared to his, each of his fingers an inch longer and far thicker–do NOT think about that right now, you thought sternly, desperate to keep your imagination under control. You could not ignore how the rough skin of his palm was pleasantly warm, though, nor how he curled his fingers over yours, calloused fingertips covering your nails.

There was a heat on your skin now that had nothing to do with the weather. You were quite literally in the process of losing your cool, which naturally meant running your mouth further. “I can’t believe the oven mitts in the galley even fit you,” you jabbed, drawing your hand away. “Were they custom-made?”

“You sound jealous,” Killer retorted, lowering his hand. “I think you just hate being short.”

You looked him up and down, and–heaven help you–before you could stop yourself, your gaze settled between his legs as you audibly stated, “Not always.”

Killer went quiet. You went quiet. The silence hung between you awkwardly, while you felt like your brain was coming to a rapid boil.

It was suddenly far too hot.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. And then turned, bolting straight for the port side of the ship and flinging yourself into the ocean, nearly taking out a crewmate because you didn’t look first.

Even with Killer’s face perpetually concealed, you couldn’t look at him for a week straight after that.

Your filter never really returned, which wasn’t usually a problem for you. The Kid Pirates were as crass a crew as any. You didn’t care about being suggestive, normally finding it funny more than anything else–but when it happened around those four, you would get uncharacteristically flustered, and attempting to hide it often led you to digging the hole deeper. Alcohol only made it worse, and there was enough of it going around each night to keep leading you to compromise your plans of keeping your distance.

When a party on the deck threatened to overstimulate you, you retreated to the crow’s nest, ascending carefully to minimize the loss of rum from your mug. Some still spilled out, but by the time you made it inside, you were pretty satisfied with your achievement, especially considering your current inebriation.

Unfortunately, the crow’s nest was already occupied. Fortunately, it was only Wire–one of the more preferable people to run into at the moment, considering his laid-back attitude and soft-spoken manner. He was bent over slightly where he sat in order to fit into the small room, his head grazing the ceiling, the horns of his hood folded down cutely.

“Ey, Wire,” you greeted. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” Wire looked at the mug in your hand and chuckled. “You know, climbing the mast drunk, while clinging to your booze, and not falling off–that, more than anything, really brands you as a pirate.”

“Who says I’m drunk?” You crossed the room, only swaying a little bit, and plopped onto the bench next to Wire. 

Wire paused. “Actually, you always speak so freely that I can never tell. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Hm. Probably not a good thing,” you mused.

“Is it? I kind of envy the way you so openly speak your mind.”

“Don’t. It’s a curse.” You grinned despite yourself. “But, for the record, I’m good and sloshed right now.”

“As am I,” Wire said, lifting up his own mug from where it rested on his other side. It was proportionate to him, the size of your head, large enough to hold over a gallon of liquid. “What brings you up here?”

“I could ask the same, what with you drinking alone.” You nudged his leg with your foot. “Things were getting a bit loud, so I needed a break, that’s all.”

“But you jam with the girls all the time?” Wire asked.

“Music noise and crowd noise are different,” you explained. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“Fair enough.”

“I usually don’t mind a little overstimulation,” you said thoughtfully, completely oblivious both to what you implied and to the way Wire subtly leaned toward you in interest, “but it’s worse when I’m drunk or high, so.”

Wire peered into your mug to gauge its contents, an easy task from his vantage point. “Are you that drunk?”

“Triple basted, as my friends back home would say,” you swirled the rum in your mug idly, “but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m a Mesiban native, after all. Chaos is in our blood. We call ourselves ‘Messy’ for good reason.’”

Wire reflected your wry smile. “Do you miss them?”

“Of course! I think about them all the time.” You paused, smile fading as your fingers tapped on your mug. “When my friend was killed… I probably should have stayed home and grieved together with all of the rest. Have their support and support them in turn. And not, you know, impulsively join a pirate crew and wallow alone in misery for months.” 

Wire watched you stare into your mug for a moment, and then your smile returned full force as you looked up at him.

“But that’s okay!” you said cheerfully, “I would have never met all of you otherwise, so things worked out just fine in the end. I really feel like–and don’t laugh–I really feel like every person on this crew’s my friend, too.”

Wire’s smile widened. You certainly had come a long way over the last few years. He held his mug out to you. “To good friends.”

“Old and new,” you added, knocking your mug against his.

“Aye.” 

The thunk of the wooden mugs hitting each other was satisfying, and the deep drink you both took was even more so. You drained the rest of your drink in one go, then chucked the empty mug across the room.

“Ah, that’s good stuff. I feel fucking great,” you sighed, “now I just need a great fucking.”

Wire nearly choked on his drink, managing to get it down safely before he laughed. “Yeah?”

“Mm. Perfect way to wrap up the night. Drunk sex isn’t as good as high sex, but it’s better than no sex. Words of wisdom!” You waved a hand nonchalantly as your words slurred. “But I’m used to not getting any. Haven’t fucked anyone since I became a pirate. At this point, I’d be satisfied with the simple pleasures of a comfy blanket.”

Wire took in that information slowly, realizing that, for all your lewd dialogue, he had never actually seen you go hunting for flings when they were docked. He perked up at your last sentence. “Oh, are you cold?”

“Yeah.” Despite the alcohol in your system, you tended to run cold, and now that you had settled, you could feel the light chill in the air even from within the crow’s nest.

Wire wordlessly held open the side of his cloak, offering to share in his warmth.

Ordinarily, you would have hesitated, double-checking with him if it was okay. With your current blood-alcohol content level, however, there was no shame nor shyness to be had. You scooted over until you were sitting right up next to him, thighs touching, and he closed the cloak around you, enveloping you in the comfort of both his warmth and his scent.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” you leaned against him. “Thanks.”

His arm around your shoulders was solid and soothing, and you felt yourself melt into his body heat. He had a lot of it to go around, given his size. Your drunken thoughts began to charge away from you now that you were snuggled close to his body. As the tallest member of the Kid Pirates, he made even the biggest guys on the ship look tiny, much less yourself. Wire absolutely towered over you, easily twice your height. When you were both standing, you were at eye level with his crotch. You could have sucked him off while standing, a thought that occurred regularly, even after all this time. You never got used to it. But, god, would it even fit in your mouth? Was he proportionate? What if–

“You’re staring,” Wire noted, though he didn’t sound bothered.

You realized you had been staring at his crotch for a solid minute now. However, once again, all traces of shame had been replaced by booze.

“Women get objectified all the time. Now you know what it feels like,” you joked. “I’m evening the playing field.”

You could feel the rumble of Wire’s chuckle through his torso.

“Also, I bet it looks nice,” you continued. “I bet you got a job-hunting dick.”

Wire paused. “Job-hunting?” 

You pulled your gaze away from his crotch to meet his eye, a mischievous spark in yours. “Yeah. You know… Because you fill someone out, like an application.”

Wire laughed, accidentally hitting his head against the ceiling with how he threw his head back. He winced, still giggling, rubbing the top of his head while you apologized.

“Don’t apologize. I like that. ‘Like an application…’ Is that something your friends back home say?”

“Actually, House said it,” you grinned at his look of surprise, “and it’s stowed away in my head ever since.”

As Wire finished his drink, he wondered if he knew less about his crewmates than he previously thought. Setting the mug down on his other side, he looked down to see that you were watching him, focused on his eyes this time. 

“Have you really been celibate this whole time?” he asked.

“Yeah. I don’t like hooking up with strangers.” You shifted, settling further into him. “It was easier back on Mesiba. Had a small network of fuckbuddies, and people could vouch for their acquaintances. Mesibans have a reputation for promiscuity for good reason, but we took care of each other.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“It wasn’t perfect, but I had my needs met,” you shrugged. “There are downsides to a culture like that, though. I lost my virginity earlier than I probably should have. And I might be a little too used to going out of my comfort zone in bed. But it’s fine, no big deal. Most of the memories are good ones.”

Wire hummed, but didn’t respond. His gaze shifted upwards in thought, and didn’t come back down until you nudged him again.

“What about you?” You asked. “I mean, a guy like you? Mr. Tall, dark and handsome? I bet you were rolling in bitches on your home island.”

“Rolling in ‘em?” Wire smirked to himself, and you wondered if he was also thinking about past dalliances. “I guess I’ve had my fair share of encounters. Enough so to consider myself experienced.”

This time, you went quiet in thought, and the silence that stretched between you was relaxed and cozy. Despite the myriad of unholy scenarios now running through your head, you still could have fallen asleep right there, wrapped in his coat and cuddled up close. A minute later, his deep voice broke through, something you could feel as much as hear with your head resting on his torso.

“You think I’m handsome?”

The question had an immediate effect on your body, your stomach doing a funny little flip while your heart picked up speed. It skipped a beat entirely when you peered up at him and saw the way he was looking at you now, eyes somehow both dark and burning.

Would you have lied if you were sober? You weren’t sure. You were never the shy type–until those damned four–but you were trying not to get too close. Alas, you were currently as drunk as a fish swimming in a lake of booze, and could be nothing but honest. 

“Yeah, I do,” you admitted.

Wire glanced away for a moment, smiling. “What a coincidence.”

“Hm?” You relaxed somewhat when his eyes left you, only to tense up when they met yours again.

“I think you’re cute.”

The heat that flushed through your body could have been blamed on the alcohol, but the force with which your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs could not. You were almost afraid that he’d be able to feel it. Not that it mattered–you were sure your face was an open book. His thigh, as big as your entire torso, pressed lightly against yours. For a second, you didn’t know what to say. Then you returned his smile, though yours wasn’t nearly as confident.

“That’s a relief. I get self-conscious sometimes.” You looked away, now shy even in spite of the alcohol–he just had that effect on you. “Hopefully I’ll remember that in the morning.”

With one massive finger under your chin, Wire gently turned your head to look back up at him.

Your breath caught in your throat. Wire leaned over you, filling your vision, probably not intending to block out the rest of the room, but unable to help it with his size. It meant you could see nothing but him now. Smell nothing but him, with his cloak wrapped around you. He bent further, getting closer, and you vaguely wondered if it hurt his back given the distance between the two of you, but if it did, he didn’t complain. He just kept getting closer.

“Really cute,” Wire murmured, his face now inches away.

You could barely hear him over the sound of blood roaring in your ears. Wire’s other arm was still slung around your shoulders, and he rubbed your arm slowly, leaving goosebumps. His finger never left your chin as he closed the distance.

Wire’s lips pressed against yours softly. Your entire body seemed to ignite, every cell alight and buzzing all at once. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, but what struck you was how gentle he was, kissing you so delicately it made you dizzy. Overwhelmed, your eyelids fluttered shut, and when you felt him start to pull away, you followed. Now certain you wanted it, Wire found your lips again.

Your hands came up to hold his face, just in case he was thinking of pulling away again, your thumbs tracing the markings on his cheeks. Wire sighed into your mouth, and the tiniest moan escaped yours. He hadn’t even used his tongue, but you were suddenly aware of the growing wetness between your legs–something that never happened to you from just a dry kiss.

The realization was sobering, a voice screaming in the back of your head now: Stop! You’re too close! This is all temporary, remember?!

You broke away from the kiss, eyes opening to see that Wire had never closed his. Had he watched you the whole time? There was a slight panic in your mind now, along with two certainties now made clear: 1. It was too late to deny it–you had feelings for your superiors, and 2. If you stayed there, you were absolutely going to fuck him.

That was a line you couldn’t let yourself cross. It was in the interest of protecting yourself: Getting too close only to have to leave would have hurt, simple as that. But, god, the way he was looking at you now, with a slight sense of awe and pupils blown wide. He wanted you, maybe as badly as you wanted him.

Before you made a decision you’d regret, you stood up, taking a step back. Now away from the cover of his cloak and the warmth of his body, the coolness of the air only contributed to the prickle of goosebumps on your skin. Your hand came to touch your lips, still tingling with the sensation of his.

“Um,” you said dumbly, then tried again, “Wire... Thanks for the chat. I have to, uh. Go to the bathroom...”

It was with the willpower of a thousand Buddhist monks that you forced yourself to leave, not looking back, afraid to see his expression.

You could only pray that he had drunk enough that he would forget about it the next morning. You certainly didn’t, the memory of the kiss fresh in your mind when you next opened your eyes. But Wire never brought it up again, nor did he treat you any differently, leading you to think that he must have. You tried to ignore the disappointment that arose–it was for the best, you told yourself.

You put more effort into staying emotionally distant after that, but it was difficult. Staying in an enclosed space for weeks at a time meant there was no avoiding those four. And aside from them, there was no doubt that the rest of the crew considered you a friend as much as you did them. Vicious battles with other pirate crews or Marines, perilous weather, long hours of work–nothing was able to drag down your mood for long, because at the end of the day, you had fun. It was just fun to sail with them, simple as that. 

You were enjoying yourself enough that you almost forgot about your revenge, your reason for joining Kid the first place, until the day came when it stared you in the face. You heard from the natives of the island you had docked at about the other crews currently there, and the name spoken of that pirate, your friend’s killer, was like ice on your skin and in your heart. Finally, after all those years, you would have your opportunity.

You found him. Both crews were there, but this was personal–you wanted to face him one-on-one. He agreed, the cocky look on his face a familiar indicator that he was underestimating you. That was fine. It would only make things easier. You didn’t need an epic battle, you just needed him to die.

With your trusty knives sharp and ready, and your heart crying out for blood, you fought him. You were far stronger and faster than you had been when you first left your home island, a result of the frequent training with the Kid Pirates. The pirate was strong, but not nearly strong enough. When it became obvious he was going to lose, he cowardly called out for his crew. For a moment, seeing the swarm of pirates rush to his aid, you thought you would die there. Then, to your surprise, the Kid Pirates surged forth to intercept them, letting you finish your fight without interruptions.

You slayed the man who killed your friend. Those of his crew that were still standing, now demotivated at the sight of their dead captain, made a hasty retreat. And as you stood there, panting, blood dripping from your knives, you realized that the mission was finally complete. You no longer needed the Kid Pirates. It was over.

Kid approached you. And you? You cried like a bitch, tears streaming down your cheeks at the thought of finally saying goodbye. It was the first time you’d ever cried in front of them like that, and it was not a pretty cry, either.

Kid leaned over you, like he did when you first met. But this time, he was wearing his unique look of annoyed concern. “You got what you wanted after all this time,” he said gruffly. “Why the hell are you crying?”

“I… I…” You fought to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to leave! I want to keep sailing with you and the crew. I really,” you sniffed, “really enjoyed spending time with everyone!”

“Then stay, you big fucking crybaby.”

You wiped your face on your sleeve and peered up at him. “...I can stay?”

“Did you think you were getting kicked off?” Kid scowled. “You’ll always have a place onboard the Victoria Punk.”

That only made it worse, a fresh wave of tears pouring out, and you couldn’t find the words to respond, only a pathetic sob.

“So quit blubbering and pull yourself together, alright? This is embarrassing,” Kid said. “You’re a Kid Pirate, aren’t you? Act like it.”

Warmth spread through your chest, light and bubbly, a sense of camaraderie so strong it was almost euphoric. You smiled through the tears, the cry turning into a laugh of pure joy.

“Yeah,” you said, standing up straighter, “I am a Kid Pirate.”

The crew threw a party that night in celebration of your achievement. Seeing the reverie, them all having fun for your sake, made you emotional, and when they toasted to you, you cried again, earning their teasing. It didn’t bother you one bit. This was your life and these were your people now, and you wouldn’t change it for anything. You asked Hip, a former tattoo artist, for a certain tattoo later, once you were all sober, and she eagerly agreed.

As soon as the following day, you bore new ink. Situated in the middle of your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, was the Kid Pirates’ secondary jolly roger: Four inches across, a perfect circle of glittering black ink with a row of spikes, and a skull in the center. It wasn’t visible when you were dressed, as you liked to be able to blend in with the general population, but you couldn’t help smiling like an idiot whenever you looked at it in the mirror. Kid made it obvious that you had been one of them since the beginning, but this made it feel official.

The energy on the ship seemed different after that, but it might have been your imagination. You felt closer to everyone than ever before, after all. Maybe it was the symbol you now carried on your back. Maybe it was the memory of the whole crew rushing in to fight for you. Or maybe it was the fact that there was no more reason to keep your distance from those four, a thought that reared up with increasing frequency nowadays. Still, you kept it in your pants, so to speak, mostly because you were afraid of what you would do if you crossed that line. You weren’t sure if you wanted them to find out just how far your craving went, not wanting to appear desperate.

After circling the first half of the Grand Line, Kid decided a break was in order, and so the Victoria Punk headed for your home island to kick back. You were excited, naturally, eager to show the crew the very best Mesiba Island had to offer, local digs and spots that weren’t as well-known to outsiders. You were also planning something else, something you didn’t get to partake in much since you left home.

“I’ve been in contact with one of my buddies. I’m gonna hook up the whole crew,” you told Kid.

“What makes you think I’d smoke your hometown’s mid-tier garbage?” Kid griped.

You weren’t phased in the slightest, well-used to his attitude. “Oh Captain, dearest Captain. You have no idea what you’re in for,” you smirked. “My friend’s a Devil Fruit user! Some ability affecting plants, I don’t know the specifics. Produces nothing but gold, though.”

“Bullshit,” Kid said. “I bet he says that to drive up business.”

“She actually keeps that part quiet, to avoid trouble. But we’re close. So don’t tell anyone I told you that, okay?” You patted his shoulder.

Kid glared at your hand, but you didn’t move it until he replied. “Fine. I’ll judge it for myself, then.”

“We haven't gotten to smoke in a while,” you withdrew your hand, “same with most of the crew. If you’re not careful…”

“I know what I can handle, pipsqueak. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sure, of course. Whatever you say.”

Kid turned his glare to you, but you were already leaving, needing to write another letter to your dealer friend to get the goods prepared.

The first two days on Mesiba Island were less eventful, you taking the time to visit friends and family while the crew relaxed. On the third day, you had met up with your Devil Fruit-using buddy, and, as promised, returned with copious amounts of the highest-quality weed for everyone to enjoy. The crew stayed at one of your friend’s taverns, and you pulled aside Kid, Killer, Heat, and Wire.

“Listen. There wasn’t enough of this particular strain for everyone, but I wanted to share it. Don’t tell the others, okay?”

You had gotten a nice deal on rooms from your friend, and the crew had splintered into various groups to partake in the drugs. It didn’t take much convincing for the four to join you in a separate room, curious about the special strain. You pushed the bed to the side and dragged out extra chairs, arranging them in a circle.

Almost everything had been set up ahead of time. Bottles of water and snacks lined the small table in the middle of the room, along with a rolling tray, an ashtray, and all the papers and tips you could possibly need. You put on gloves before grinding up the bud, chatting while you worked.

“It’s okay to smoke in here?” Heat asked.

“Remember what island you’re on,” you said, sprinkling the herb on the blunt wrap you were currently working with. “Not only is it okay, but we’re going to hotbox the room.”

Kid eyed the row of perfectly rolled blunts that you had already finished preparing. “You were a regular stoner, huh?”

“Have you considered that maybe I’m just good with my hands?” You glanced at him while licking the blunt wrap, which might have been a mistake, because he stared in a way that made your heart skip. You folded the blunt wrap closed. “But, yeah, I used to smoke all the time.”

“What’s so special about this strain?” Wire asked.

“It’s my favorite! Best of the best out of what my friend grows,” you smiled proudly as you dried the blunt with your lighter. “A well-balanced hybrid with a good flavor. Really nice, lofty high without knocking you out too much to enjoy it. Not that the crew got anything mid! This stuff is just even better, but she only grows it in small batches. I bet it’ll even chill you out, Kid.”

Kid shot you a look that you ignored while Wire nodded, saying, “I see. What’s it called?”

“Magenta Mountain.” You set the finished blunt at the end of the row to finish drying. The first ones were ready by now.

You plopped into your chair, lit the first blunt, and made sure it was burning evenly before taking a small hit to start with, to adjust to the feeling of smoking again. It didn’t take long, the hot smoke in your throat and lungs pleasant rather than irritating, and your second hit was deeper. You exhaled slowly, watching the milky smoke curl and expand, then coughed a few times before passing the blunt to your right, where Killer sat. Next to him was Kid, then Heat, and completing the circle, on your left, was Wire.

You expected Killer to lift his mask an inch, like you’d seen him do occasionally for certain foods. Instead, he stuck the blunt in one of the lower holes of his mask to take the hit, and when he exhaled, smoke came out of all the holes in the mask.

“Once the blunt’s gone around a few times,” you said, “that’s gonna be hilarious.”

“It’s hilarious now,” Heat grinned.

“You’ll get over it,” Killer said, passing the blunt to Kid.

“Just don’t get mad if I laugh,” you said.

“I won’t.”

You debated lighting a second blunt and having two going around at once, but ultimately decided against it. There was no rush, as the rooms were rented out for the entire night. Conversation started to flow, interspersed with the occasional fit of coughs, and by the third time the blunt passed your hands, you were starting to feel its effects. The first thing you noticed was the warmth around your eyes, gradually spreading to the rest of your face, and then to your entire body.

“How’s my hometown treating everyone?” you asked, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it onto the bed behind you.

“No complaints here,” Heat said before taking a large hit off the blunt, and you watched with some fascination. Every hit he took was a huge one, and he never coughed once. It must have had something to do with his fire-breathing ability, being used to smoke.

“I liked the restaurant from yesterday,” Killer remarked.

“Oh, you mean Papa’s? I thought you would. Their pasta rules.” You paused, remembering something, then snickered.

“What?” Kid asked, his tone already far less harsh than usual.

“It’s fucking stupid,” you grinned, “but, growing up, my friends and I would call it ‘Daddy’s’ as a joke. Someone would order spaghetti and meatballs, and we’d immediately pile on about them having ‘daddy’s balls’ and whatnot.”

Kid must have been feeling it now, too, because instead of rolling his eyes like he usually would, he cracked a smile.

“Told you it was dumb.” You leaned back in your chair–no, you melted into it. There was a haze in the air now, thick smoke hanging around the room as you hotboxed it further and further. There was also a haze in your head. Different from the kind you would get from alcohol, this one made you feel light and floaty.

The weed was well established in your system now. There was a slight head rush at first that had since settled, leaving you with a gentle sort of drifting feeling. Your heart rate picked up slightly, even as your breathing slowed. A sense of calm settled over you, both in your head and in your body. Muscles loosening up, you relaxed further, everything seeming to move a little bit more slowly. Your senses seemed to heighten, particularly your sense of touch. You could feel the air itself wrapped around your skin, like you were underwater without the water. A faint, soothing pressure.

You didn’t feel the world around you. You experienced it.

Along with the physical sensitivity came an almost spiritual one. Not in the religious sense, or even in the out-of-body sense, but in the way you felt connected to your surroundings. The pressure of your feet against the floor was grounding, and when you closed your eyes, you felt like you were a part of the entire island. When the others talked, you felt connected with them too, like you were locking onto their energy. That closeness was one reason you loved smoking with friends, so it was nice to share it with them, but it wasn’t your favorite thing about being high.

The best thing, you thought, was the way your negativity seemed to dissolve. Fears and doubts subsided, making way for a simple appreciation of existence. It seemed more important to focus on enjoying things in life rather than lamenting the broken state of the world.

You looked around the room and took in the state of your companions. Everyone except Killer had settled back into their chairs, the latter instead leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. But you could tell that even Killer was unwinding. Your gaze slid over to look at Heat, and when the two of you made eye contact, his eyes widened.

“Your eyes are really red,” Heat said.

“Everyone’s eyes are red, my guy,” you replied, then glanced at Killer. “Well, Killer’s might not be. We’ll never know.”

You and Heat giggled.

“And I’ll never tell,” Killer said solemnly.

That got everyone laughing, you covering your mouth until the fit calmed.

“When I first joined the crew,” you nodded at Killer, “I was dying to know what you looked like under the mask, but I’m over it now.”

“No, you’re not,” Wire accused.

You were a bit taken aback that he read you so easily. “No, I’m not,” you agreed.

Kid waved his right hand vaguely. “You’re not missing out on anything. He’s an ugly motherfucker.”

You gawked at Kid in shock, but Killer burst out laughing, the first time you’d ever heard him do so, head hanging down and shoulders shaking. It was a weird but adorable laugh, and you calmed down–it seemed that sort of thing was fine if it was coming from Kid.

“No way,” you said, relaxing once more. “I bet he’s cute.”

Alcohol made you honest due to a lack of judgment. Weed made you honest because you didn’t care otherwise. You knew what you were saying and it was okay because the world was good, and your friends liked you and all that mattered was being in the moment.

“You sound so certain,” Killer said once he caught his breath, a playful lilt to his tone lingering from his laugh.

“I can feel it in my gut,” you said assuredly.

“I could have a facial scar.”

“Kid has a facial scar, and he’s cute.”

Kid looked at you in surprise, and where you would normally smile back with your high confidence, you now deftly avoided eye contact as you were rapidly becoming aware of a new effect of the weed on your body.

Sometimes weed had the effect of raising your libido, and Magenta Mountain had occasionally done so in the past. Maybe it was the increased circulation, you didn’t know. You had considered that it might happen, but it was never enough to be distracting, so you hadn’t been worried. The rest of the effects of the weed were so nice, it was well worth the discomfort of possibly being a bit aroused in the presence of others, you had figured.

But you were not a ‘bit’ aroused. You were burning up, slowly but surely, tingling and hypersensitive all over until there was a growing dampness between your legs. And the others around you were all men you had a raging, years-long crush on. Beneath the carefree optimism of the high was the dawning sense that something was off.

“This shit is amazing. What did you call this strain?” Heat asked, plucking the weed container from the table to look at the label.

“Magenta Mountain.”

“Huh…” His squinty eyes narrowed further. “This says something else.”

“What?”

Heat tossed the container to you. You fumbled it in your intoxication, bouncing it between your hands until it clattered to the floor. The others laughed, and you did too as you reached down to pick it up. Your laughter died as you read the label.

‘Red Sky At Night.’

A weight settled heavily in your stomach as you realized what’s been happening: your friend gave you the wrong strain. Not only that, but you were very, very familiar with what you–and the others–had been smoking all this time.

‘R-SAN,’ as you and your friend had dubbed it, was specifically designed to increase arousal, focusing on blood flow and sensitivity far more than other strains. You knew this because you were the one your friend used as a lab rat when developing it. The information sank in slowly as it dawned on you–you’d unintentionally given you and your superiors a mild aphrodisiac. And you, as the one it was tested on, would be affected by it the most heavily.

“Y/n?”

Your head snapped up. The others were looking at you with some concern.

“You good, or did we just smoke the wrong weed?”

“We’re good!” You replied a little too quickly, voice a little too high-pitched. “She gave me the wrong strain, but it’s fine. I mean, I feel fine. Do you feel fine?”

Heat and Killer shrugged, Kid grunted an affirmative, and Wire nodded.

“I will admit,” Kid said, “whatever this is, it’s some pretty good shit.”

You lifted your chin. “T-Told you so. My friend grows good herb.”

The others lounged in their seats quietly, soaking in the high. Meanwhile, you wanted to scream. The current blunt in rotation was the third one of the night, and you had already smoked too much to be able to come down anytime soon. Not to mention there were four more blunts left that the others would likely want to go through. That meant a lot of time stuck in your worked-up state. If you rejected any more, would it be suspicious? Especially after you went to the trouble to set all this up? You weren’t sure how much more you could tolerate. Already, you wanted to run off and touch yourself until you had sated the blazing urge inside you.

It was imperative, for the sake of your sanity, that you did not let your imagination run away with you.

You tried to think about tame things, and not how you could feel your pulse between your legs, or how wet you were already, or how attractive the men you were sharing space with were. At the least, it was easy to be introspective when high, so you were able to force your thoughts into the sentimental, rather than the physical. You thought about the warmth of your friends–not that kind of warmth, damn it–but how the way they treated you changed since you first met them. Yes, focus on that. Focus on the beginnings, how initially standoffish everyone was. You considered the time when you first met the crew. There had been something odd about your battle with the First Mate…

“Killer,” you said, “remember when we first met? How we fought?” You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side, exposing your shoulder to show the scar that ran from there to your clavicle. At 6 inches long, it was your biggest scar, but you didn’t hold it against him. Focused on Killer, you missed the gazes of the other three settling on your bare skin.

“Yeah,” Killer replied.

“You were going easy on me, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Until you stabbed me.”

That was what you had suspected. The sudden increase in his speed during the fight didn’t make sense otherwise. You tried not to sound smug. “Why is that? Why didn’t you try to kill me, Killer?”

“I almost took your head off,” Killer said plainly.

“No, I’m talking about before I stabbed you. You held back,” you pressed.

Killer paused. “...You want the truth?”

“Yes?” You sat forward, intrigued.

“When you approached us years ago,” Killer interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, “your eyes were all swollen like you’d been crying for hours. I assumed it was over the friend you wanted revenge for–I realized you came straight to us not long after you’d found out. That kind of determination, that kind of love for a friend, it’s something I value in an ally. That’s why I hesitated.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, unexpectedly touched. That was honestly very sweet, so much so that it was making you self-conscious, so you added a playful, “guess that all went out the window after my knife slotted between your ribs, eh?”

“Mostly,” Killer said. “I was kind of into it, though.”

Your eyes widened, and you grinned nervously. “Shut the hell up. No you were not.”

Wire chuckled, a deep sound that practically gave you goosebumps in your current state. “Well, knives are sexy, and Killer has a ridiculously high pain tolerance, so I can see it.”

No matter what you did, it seemed that the conversation kept circling back to indecent places. You mentally floundered for a moment before quickly spouting, “Too bad for you guys. Killer got soft, and now you’re stuck with me.”

Killer’s head snapped to you at the accusation, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his glare. You met it (kind of) in challenge. Despite the slight sense of warning you were getting, you continued to run your mouth.

“You could have killed me if you really tried, you know–back then, you completely outclassed me.”

“I still completely outclass you,” Killer stated.

Your look of indignant shock sent the other three into a laughing fit, and your face burned in embarrassment. Even high, you still had your pride as a fighter, which was now thoroughly bruised. “Excuse me?” you fumed. “I’m way stronger than I was years ago! I can fucking take you!”

Killer stood up suddenly, the warning in your head becoming a full-on alarm when he stalked over to you. You scrambled to your feet, but the weed slowed your reaction speed, and before you could do anything about it, Killer grabbed you.

Maneuvering you as easily as a child would a doll, Killer pulled you toward him so your back was against his chest, snaked one beefy arm under yours and around the back of your neck, and locked you into a half-Nelson, all in the span of a second. Then he stood up straight, and you were brought off your feet. With your head being pushed down, you couldn’t gain any leverage, kicking and struggling to no avail. He was a solid wall of muscle, and with only one arm, he had you completely helpless. After another fruitless minute, you gave up, going slack in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you mumbled, making the other three laugh again.

Point now proven, Killer set you on the ground. It took everything in you to keep your legs from shaking. Arm wrestling with Kid that one time had been bad enough. Being locked against Killer, totally unable to fight back? Feeling the firmness of his torso against your back, the power in his arm? You weren’t just wet anymore–you were completely soaked. You only prayed it wouldn’t get bad enough to show through your pants.

Sinking into your seat, you tuned out the others for a minute, all comments fading into the background. You tried to focus on breathing slowly, to ease the frantic pounding of your heart, to ignore the aching need between your legs. Zoning out was impossible with the raging sensitivity of your body, but you could at least ground yourself enough to make it through the evening. After this session, you would duck into a private room and take care of yourself. Just hold out that much longer, you thought.

They must have moved on from ribbing you by the time you focused once more. You hadn’t heard any of it, though you were sure they had. At least, Kid would have. Now he was talking about something else, finishing a story you had entirely missed.

“It was a pain in the ass,” Kid paused to take a hit, exhaling before he continued, “but right now? I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Hearing that, it was hard not to feel smug. That was the exact reason you had brought weed for everyone (and why you were in your current predicament.) All for the opportunity for your friends to relax.

“See, I knew it’d mellow you out, Kid,” you said, coming off a little too pleased with yourself and making him glower.

“You didn’t know shit. Mind your tongue,” he said, though the effect of his words was ruined by how tranquil he sounded. “You aren’t getting any free passes because of this.”

You hid a grin. He may have said that, but you knew him better. One of Kid’s better traits was to pay back what he was given, good or bad. You knew for a fact that he would go easier on you for a while for having set everyone up for the night.

“You don’t scare me, Kid. I know you care. Mr. You-will-always-have-a-place-onboard-the-Victoria-Punk.”

“Shut the hell up, Y/n,” he said with no real venom, although you did not miss the faint tinting of red on his cheeks. “Don’t make me put your valuables on the top shelf.”

“Go ahead,” you shrugged. “Wire will get it for me.” You turned your gaze onto Wire, batting your eyelashes cartoonishly. “Won’t you, Wire?”

It looked ridiculous coming from you, and had the desired effect of making him giggle, his face lighting up in a way that tugged at your heart. He smiled down at you fondly. “Sure.”

“Are you whipped?” Kid grumbled. “Don’t tell me you two fucked.”

“We did not,” you interjected before anyone made a dumb comment. Unfortunately, you thought to yourself.

“You did kiss me, though,” Wire said casually.

Oh–so he hadn’t forgotten. The man had no idea what kind of bomb that was to drop on you now, of all times.

“Wire!” you shouted. “That’s–”

“What?!” The other three yelled in unison.

“–not how it happened! You kissed me!” You tried to shout, but no one was listening because the other three, even Killer, had rounded on Wire for some reason.

“You kissed her?”

“I thought we had a deal, you scumbag!”

“When the hell was this?”

“Wait, hold on!” you cried. “What did you say?!”

They were not listening.

“With tongue?”

“You’re a fucking traitor, Wire.”

“Here I thought you were the one with self-control.”

“Will you morons shut the fuck up!” you roared.

They finally went quiet, all staring owlishly at you now.

“Did you–did you say you had a deal? What the fuck does that mean?” You said hotly, glaring at each of them in turn, awaiting an explanation.

Kid gave nothing away, but Wire was blushing, Heat looked guilty, and who knew what Killer was thinking.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” Kid said lightly, waving it off like it was nothing.

“I’m supposed to pretend like I didn’t hear that?” You were feeling distinctly less chill now, trying not to get swept up by the implications. There was no way. They couldn’t be…

“You’re better off not knowing,” Kid proclaimed. “You couldn’t handle it.”

That kind of pissed you off. He didn’t know what your life was like before you joined his crew, nor all that you had gone through to make it as far as you did. What you had to endure. Even what you were currently enduring. 

You licked your lips, thoughts slipping into the red again. “You have no idea what I can handle, Captain.”

Kid was stunned for a moment, not responding right away, and you could audibly hear the slow breath he sucked in. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

You swallowed and looked away quickly, heart pounding a dent inside your chest. “F-Fine. Whatever. Keep it to yourself. Like I care.”

Kid kept watching you, but you didn’t notice, your eyes fixed on the ground now as your imagination spiraled, thoughts racing a mile a minute. What the fuck had they been talking about? There was no way. No possible way they were all interested. Wire, maybe. He had kissed you, though he had also been drunk, so there was no guarantee he was even attracted. But all of them? All four? It couldn’t be. You had to be reading into it. Right? 

Right?

You pushed your feet into the ground, anxious for a sense of stability, trying and failing to tune the others out this time. Weed affected everyone a bit differently, but there were some constants. How much of what you were feeling was also being felt by them? If you felt a sense of connection, were they experiencing it as well? Could they sense your energy? 

Did they know? 

For a brief, terrifying moment, you had the paranoid thought that they could read your mind. Then you pushed it aside. It was impossible. All in your head. Just make it through tonight, and don’t think about it. Don't think about it.

But the universe was a cruel place, or maybe some god above was playing tricks on you. You were certain some higher being was laughing at your expense, because the conversation turned into a discussion of the mens’ past encounters. You could only sit there as Kid and Wire offhandedly commented on particular dalliances while the more reserved two opted to listen. They weren’t detailed, keeping things vague, but it didn’t matter. Your brain grabbed the barest descriptions and drew out a whole movie in your head, filling in the blanks and imagining the events in graphic detail. At first you pictured a random person as their partner, but then it immediately switched to putting yourself in their place, visualizing yourself getting dicked down by your crushes.

You dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to stay cool. It was a mental chess game to function at this point. You analyzed your every action with militaristic scrutiny, frantic not to give anything away, to not appear like the smoldering ball of lust you were. Was your posture too tense? Were you avoiding eye contact too much? Don’t act off. Don’t stay silent. Say something, join in the conversation.

“You guys don’t know how good you have it,” you said carefully, fighting to keep your tone neutral. “I can’t fuck strangers. I just can’t.”

Kid gave you a look of disbelief, which was fair, considering where you were from. “Wait. Have you really not had any since you joined us?”

“She hasn’t,” Wire answered for you, “she told me.” He shot you a devilish smirk. “Right before devouring my mouth.”

“Not how it happened!” You said brusquely, wanting to throttle him right then. “Shut up, Wire!”

“Why don’t you come over here and shut me up?” He challenged coolly, and the slight drop of his eyes when he looked at you told you he had glanced at your lips.

A fresh wave of heat flared under your skin, and you mentally cursed him. Why did he have to be like that? Why now? You scrambled to come up with a retort, but only managed a lame, “Like I could even reach…”

Wire simply bent over in response, hunching down until he was at your level, cheek resting on his fist and a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

Kid clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Knock it off.”

“What?” you snapped at him, not meaning to lash out but feeling like you were rapidly losing control–of the situation, of yourself, of everything. “Are you jealous or something? You want a kiss, too?”

“Oh, please, Y/n,” Kid said, unbothered. “If I wanted a kiss from you, I would have just taken it for myself by now.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the image his words conjured, and you gaped at him for a moment, for once in your life getting a taste of your own medicine as you were rendered speechless. Losing the mental battle of wills, you found yourself unable to maintain eye contact, giving away your timidity by looking away.

Kid studied your reaction, but by some grace, elected not to comment on it. Not that his choice of words was any better, because he asked, “You haven’t cum at all? For years?”

“Of course I have,” you huffed, “given the shared sleeping quarters, I have to take care of it in the shower like everyone else.”

“Is that why your showers take so long?” Heat stated more so than asked.

It was.

“No, it’s not!” you yelled, further revealing how flustered you were by the conversation. The others dissolved into laughter. Heat was grinning, pleased to see you on the receiving end for once. 

“Besides,” you muttered, “it only helps so much. Even with toys.”

“You have toys on the ship?” Kid asked, surprised for some reason.

“Half the crew does, Kid,” you said. “I bet you do, too, so don’t say stupid shit about it.”

Kid smirked, caught. “And it’s still not enough for you, huh?”

This had to be some kind of torture, because every time you thought you were in the clear, things continued to escalate. You would have fled the room if you could live it down, but alas, the others would never let you forget about it. Stuck in a mess of your own making, all you could do was continue the conversation.

“A toy can’t hold you or kiss you,” you said, ignoring the weight of their gazes. “Can’t talk you through it, can’t bite or suck on anything–oh, god damn it.” You dropped your head into your hands, fire billowing in your body as your thoughts surged into overdrive once again. Your fingers curled in your hair and you pulled lightly, seeking any sort of counter-stimulation to bring down the heat. “Ughhh.”

They all watched as you groused, lifting your head with a hopeless sigh. “Fuck, I need to get laid.”

“Dibs,” said all four of them at once. They all looked at each other in surprise, then burst out laughing, curling over themselves.

You experienced the unique sensation of being stunned silent while also wanting to scream, the burning of your flesh now that of embarrassment as well as need. Their laughs would actually be very nice if it wasn’t at your expense, and everything felt so crushingly unfair right then that you growled at them. “Really, guys? That was not an invitation.”

All bullshit, of course. You would have slept with any of them even without the influence of the weed. And now the pace of your heart kicked up, because they had confirmed what you had suspected, but couldn’t quite believe–they were interested. All of them. It wasn’t your imagination.

“Well then, Y/n,” Kid said, “consider this an invitation.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kid took a hit off the blunt, then leaned forward and exhaled the smoke in your face, the rude action only riling you up worse. “You want a big dick to ride? All you gotta do is ask.”

The fire inside you blazed larger and hotter, and you were aware of your breath coming out shorter. You dropped your gaze to the floor, gritting your teeth. After everything–all the years getting to know them, all the suggestive conversations, all the times you had craved them–after all the longing you pretended wasn’t there–now Kid was laying it out on the table, a clear offer to sate your desires. You could have what you wanted. All you had to do was accept.

Every cell in your body yearned for it, and yet a part of you still resisted, the part that still wanted not to appear desperate. You fought not to stay composed, masking your nervousness with attitude. “Who’s got the big dick, though?”

Kid scowled. “Watch it, little girl.”

The words had an immediate reaction deep in your gut, because Kid had never called you that before. He looked you in the eye while he said it, too, and you knew you failed to hide the momentary panic in your eyes. You ripped your gaze away, hands balling into fists.

At that point, you were so worked up and so wet that you couldn’t move without feeling it. The lightest shift in your seat had your lower lips sliding against each other slickly, the hypersensitivity from the high meaning you felt it like sparks. Even the fabric of your bra against your nipples was overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Heat asked, and you realized you were trembling.

“All good,” you bit out.

“You’re sweating,” Wire said.

“And you were worried about me overdoing it.” Kid tsk’d. “Handle your shit, Y/n.”

“It’s handled,” you insisted. “I’m fine.”

“You sure about that, princess?”

He knows! You thought in a panic. If Kid’s words didn’t make that obvious, the curl of his lip certainly did. Your thoughts descended into near-hysteria, like a beehive had been upended in your head. Through the chaos was also the bemoaning thought that he was such an asshole, messing with you like this.

“Poor little Y/n,” Kid continued, smirking. “So pent-up. So many years without getting fucked.”

“Kid…” You nearly whined, voice quivering as much as your body was.

Movement in your peripheral vision made you glance to the side, just in time to see Killer reaching out to touch your arm, the contact like pure electricity on your skin. You jerked your arm away and grabbed his wrist, fingers unable to wrap all the way around, tightening your grip in warning.

“Do not–do not fucking touch me right now. Don’t tease me,” you hissed.

“You’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?” Kid griped. Your resulting glare was offset by how you bit your lip, and Kid rolled his eyes. “I know you want it. That you’ve been wanting it. And yet you always hold yourself back. You’ll say the nastiest things while looking us dead in the eye and then just disappear. I don’t know if it’s some sort of pride you’re clinging to, or if you’re secretly shy underneath it all. But for fuck’s sake, Y/n, it’s getting hard to watch. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just indulge? Let yourself have something nice, for once.”

Your jaw dropped further and further as he spoke, gawking at how he mercilessly called you out. Then you shut your mouth, swallowed a lump in your throat, and dropped your head, covering your face.

“You want to get fucked tonight, don’t you?” You heard Kid say.

“...Yes,” you mumbled into your hands, but the room was so quiet now that you were sure everyone heard.

“Then get over yourself, pick a guy, and go to another room.”

He made it sound so simple. 

Maybe he was right. Why were you making it more complex than it needed to be? Why couldn’t you just let yourself have this? But even if you succumbed to your desires, there was another problem.

“But… But, um,” you stammered. “How could I possibly choose? I lov–I like all of you!...”

A humiliating slip-up, one you expected them to tease you about, but there was only silence. You braved a peek at them from between your fingers. All eyes were on you–the pointing of Killer’s mask in your direction left no doubt–and then the guys glanced at each other, exchanging looks you couldn’t quite decipher, but that made something curl in your stomach anyway.

“Maybe,” Kid said slowly, gauging your reaction, “you don’t have to.”

You felt something change in the room. Like the air got heavier, though it could have been the smoke–although the group’s pace had slowed, the blunts never stopped their rotation. You weren’t sure which one you were on anymore, only that there was something else drifting alongside the undulating smoke, something that tingled like the air before a storm.

You lowered your hands so you could look at Kid clearly, keeping your mouth covered. There was no playfulness in his expression, only an ardent luster to the black of his eyes, the gold of his irises constricted into a thin band.

“Kid?” You only said his name, but the full question was implied. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

“I’m serious. You could strip down right here, and we’ll figure something out,” Kid said, “if you really think you can handle it, like you so claimed.”

The challenge went over your head. You were too distracted by how your fervent body roused at the notion, every aching cell screaming at you to accept, any opposing thought quickly drowned out by sheer, unbearable need. You had been gradually wound more and more taught throughout the night, and the last threads of resistance were beginning to snap. 

You lowered your hands, so your consent would be fully comprehensible, but you were cut off before you had the chance to respond.

“Wait,” Wire said, the concern in his tone grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

The swell of disappointment within you threatened to be crushing. You couldn’t keep it out of your voice. “Oh… You don’t want to?”

“Of course I want to, dummy,” Wire said, “but, Y/n. You’ve never slept with any of us before. To jump into doing something intense like this? While we’re all under the influence? There are risks.”

“I really don’t care at the moment.”

Kid smirked at your eagerness, but Wire wasn’t amused. “Have you ever been with multiple partners?”

“I’ve been in a threesome!” you said quickly. “I can handle it, Wire!”

“Mm… I dunno,” Wire considered. Heat passed the blunt to him right then, and the pause in which you had to wait for him to take his hit was agonizing. Wire watched the smoke he exhaled rise before meeting your eye again. “There should at least be a discussion first. About limits and stuff.”

“Please, I can’t wait anymore!” Keeping your voice down was its own trial. You could have cried from frustration. “I fucked up, okay? I got the wrong strain, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve been practically edging on the spot, and you four are just sitting there, all relaxed and having fun and unfairly hot…” You resisted the urge to cover your face again, but couldn’t help avoiding eye contact while admitting it. It surprised you, then, to hear who spoke up next.

“We could start slow,” Heat suggested, a blush coloring his face, “one person at a time. Discuss anything else as we go.”

You glanced at Wire hopefully, and found that everyone else was doing the same. In the back of your mind, you vaguely wondered why the decision seemed to hinge on Wire rather than Kid, but you didn’t question it in the moment.

Wire passed you the blunt, the mere slide of his giant fingers past yours as he did enough to make you shiver. He watched your reaction, then assessed the other three in the circle, one at a time. By the time he looked back at you, you had taken your hit, and your eyes met as the smoke flowed from your parted lips.

“Tch,” Wire’s shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. “Alright. If you’re gonna look at me like that. But at least choose a safeword.”

“I don’t care,” you said.

“I do,” he snapped, the stern rebuke going straight between your legs, “pick something.”

“Fine...” It was a struggle to come up with anything with the prospect of having them so close by, and you raced to think of something. The reason for your current state flashed through your head. “Red Sky?”

“Works for me. Everyone hear that?” Wire questioned, waiting for verbal confirmation from the other three before he nodded his approval.

You passed the blunt to Killer, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. “Um… How are we going to do this?”

Kid’s smirk widened, as fiendish as you’d ever seen it. “I think we should pass her around like a blunt.”

Once more, you found yourself gaping at Kid, slack-jawed at the lecherous idea. It was depraved, it was objectifying, and you were, truth be told, not the least bit opposed–you would have had them any way they offered at that point. Anything to ease the fever.

“Y/n,” Killer said firmly, making you tense, “come here.”

He had said it like a command, tone no different than if he were giving orders on the ship. You responded instinctively, drawn to Killer like a magnet, feeling as if your body wasn’t yours to control anymore. His mask dipped as you stood before him, looking you up and down.

“Sit.” Killer patted his lap. “Facing them.”

You swallowed and turned, perching on Killer’s knee. He grabbed your hips, making you gasp, and dragged you back until your back touched his chest, situating you directly over his crotch.

Killer’s hands never left your hips, your skin buzzing where he made contact, even through your clothes. His chin rested on your shoulder, deep voice murmuring into your ear. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. The other three leaned forward in their seats, making you realize rather belatedly that everything that was about to happen would have an audience. You had never been watched before, and you didn’t know how you’d feel about it. But that thought, and any others, promptly flew out the window when Killer’s hands started their slow slide up your body, curving to the front and cupping your breasts.

You pressed yourself back against his chest, breaths coming out shaky. He was only squeezing and massaging gently, but after everything you had to endure so far, as roiled as you were, it was enough to send pleasant little shocks throughout your entire body.

Little shocks immediately turned into powerful bolts as Killer started teasing your nipples, your body jerking in response. You were sensitive enough there without the weed factoring in–as high as you currently were, it was overwhelming.

“Ah! K-Killer!” You pulled at his hands. “Please, slow down! I’m extra sensitive there, and the weed makes it ten times worse, so you gotta go slow…”

“You are, huh?” Killer hummed, flicking a nipple just to make you yelp.

“I thought you could handle this, Y/n,” Kid taunted.

“Whatever, Kid! You can watch, but I don’t need your lip,” your snarl didn’t sound nearly as threatening when it came between breathy pants. “Wait your turn and–nhh!”

Killer chose to resume touching you right then, rubbing your nipples at an appropriately slower pace. The tingling went straight to your cunt, and you threw your head back onto his shoulder, whimpering.

“Better?” Killer asked softly, and at your hasty nodding, you felt his chuckle against your back.

As incredible as it felt, it only made the need worse, the burning of your flesh intensifying under Killer’s touch. You writhed in his lap, desperate for stimulation between your legs, but you weren’t at the right angle to grind your clit against anything, and Killer was pressing your torso to his to keep you in place. Held against him and unable to escape, you could only take it, able to feel the calluses on his fingertips even through a shirt and bra. Killer let out a pleased growl at the sensation of you squirming over his growing bulge, the sound making you clench around nothing.

“Damn,” Wire muttered. “Look at her writhe.”

The other three were now sporting obvious erections, Wire and Kid idly palming at themselves while Heat elected to just watch.

“It’s the weed,” Kid responded, smirking. “I’ve been half hard ever since the first blunt, but I didn’t think much of it until she got all cagey about the strain.”

“The name is obvious enough,” Heat agreed.

So Kid had you figured out all along. Go figure. You weren’t paying much attention to that right then, though, not under Killer’s cruel assault.

“Please, Killer,” you whined, “stop teasing!”

“Gotta make sure you’re ready, first,” Killer said. “None of us are average, Y/n. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I’m ready!” You almost sobbed. “I–ah!–I promise, I’m wet!”

Killer paused, mask tipping down over your shoulder. “You don’t say.”

You followed his gaze (so to speak) to see a damp spot on your pants–you had soaked through both layers. “See? I told you, I’m ready!”

“Soon,” Killer assured, resuming his slow teasing of your chest.

Every time you thought you had adjusted enough to keep from making noise, Killer would switch it up, circling or skimming over the pert buds, drawing more whimpers out of you. He played you like an instrument, a steady chorus of your soft cries in time with his fingers, and the other three were as enraptured as if it was a song. All your nerves ablaze and still being denied what you needed, you looked to your audience for help. Kid and Wire weren’t moved by your plight, but as soon as you locked gazes with Heat, he rose to his feet as if you had called out to him.

Heat crossed the short distance and sank to his knees in front of you and Killer, resting his hands on your thighs.

“What happened to one person at a time?” Kid grumbled.

Heat ignored him, leaning in to kiss you but pausing before he made contact. “Can I–” he started to ask, but you grabbed his face and pulled him in the rest of the way, crushing your lips against his to really get across the kind of state you were in. Just to make sure he understood, you shoved your tongue past his lips. Heat’s small moan of surprise was muffled, but then he eagerly reciprocated.

Heat matched your pace, returning everything you gave him with equal passion, and you quivered in anticipation as his hands slid up your thighs. Instead of going between your legs, though, they went to the hem of your shirt, and as Heat moved to kiss your neck, you realized he hadn’t come to help anyone but himself.

“Heat?” you inquired.

“Lift your arms,” he instructed, ignoring your question.

“But–”

“Lift your arms.”

You clenched at the command, not expecting it from the normally laid-back man. He was still blushing, but there was an intensity in his tone that had you complying right away, though not without an irritated huff. Heat nipped at your neck as a reward for listening before he pulled your shirt off.

Killer’s mask touched the back of your neck like he was kissing it. “Kid’s gonna like that tattoo,” he whispered as he unfastened the clasp of your bra. You barely paid attention to the comment, helping him remove it and tossing it onto the nearby bed.

Heat stared, transfixed, at your breasts. When no one made a move to continue, you started to consider violence. “Heat…”

“You have cute tits,” Heat said.

“Whatever!” You were about to strangle him, and not in a sexy way. “Would you just hurry and–”

Heat cut you off by kissing your nipple, making you gasp, and when he took it into his mouth, your back arched into him. “H-Heat!”

Killer’s prior touches might as well have been through a heavy blanket. It didn’t compare to the wet warmth of Heat’s mouth directly on your sensitive bud, nor the velvety texture of his tongue running over it. You reached to bury your fingers in his hair, but then Killer grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your back. The ache between your legs magnified at the restraint, and you didn’t think it was physically possible to be any more worked up, but then Heat proved you wrong by starting to suck.

You twitched and writhed, pulling weakly against Killer’s iron-like grip, helpless under Heat’s assault. He switched from one nipple to the other, bringing his hand to play with whichever his mouth wasn’t currently on. It felt like live wires had been laid through your body, running straight to your cunt, making you want to cry with how empty you were. You clenched and flexed your pelvic floor muscles, desperate for sensation, and somehow, you felt something start to build, as steadily as if you had been playing with yourself. You had never come without touching your clit before, but now you understood how it was possible, your cunt so sensitive that clenching alone brought sufficient stimulation. But right when you thought you could see the peak, right when you were certain you could make it, the build stopped, leveling off and leaving you stuck. Even the scrape of Heat’s teeth against your nipple, though maddening, wasn’t enough to get you there.

“Please!” You cried out in frustration, on the verge of tears. “Please touch me, Heat, Killer, anybody! Please!”

“You’ve endured it for so long, haven’t you?” Killer said huskily, moving your wrists to one hand, resting the other on your hip and squeezing hard. “That’s okay. We’re gonna take care of you…”

You were about to snap at him that no one was taking care of shit, but your remark caught in your throat when Killer’s hand slipped under your pants and underwear, inching forward until he was finally, finally reaching where you needed it. His wide hand parted your thighs, going straight for your slit, the brush of him over your clit along the way making you buck.

“Wow,” Killer said as he felt the evidence of your need, everything between your skin and clothes down there a thick, slippery film. “I thought you were exaggerating about how riled up you were. But the weed’s really done a number on you, hasn’t it?”

There was no resistance when he penetrated you with a thick finger, and you bucked your hips again with a sharp cry. “Oh! Oh, fuck! Killer!”

“Never seen anyone this wet before,” Killer mused, stroking a few times before inserting a second finger. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in little circles.

Heat’s messy slurps combined with the squelches of Killer’s fingering only amplified the experience. After everything you had gone through, it didn’t take very long, especially with the two of them working together. Killer added a third finger and curled them insistently as he went, and you came hard a few seconds later.

You shut your eyes from the intensity, hips grinding furiously into Killer’s hand as you rode it out, whimpering with every wave that rocked your body. He never stopped probing his fingers against that spot, working you deftly through it until the fluttering of your walls finally stopped and you slumped against his chest, panting.

Heat kept on sucking on your nipple, the stimulation rapidly becoming overwhelming in the wake of your orgasm. “Heat–Heat, Heat!” With your head fuzzy with dopamine, you couldn’t form a better sentence, higher functions temporarily absent.

Luckily, Killer had been able to feel everything. He let go of your wrists to push Heat back by the shoulder, the pop of his lips disconnecting making you twitch. You twitched again when Killer pulled his fingers out.

The residual throbbing of your clit lasted longer than it ever had, aftershocks of an orgasm while high spreading through your body like lightning branching through your nerves. You didn’t open your eyes for a minute, chest heaving. When you did, the first thing you saw was Heat’s look of adoration. Behind him, Kid and Wire were burning holes through you with their gazes, both of them red-faced and awestruck. It dawned on you that you’ve cum in front of four guys. In front of your superiors. Your friends. And yet, instead of shame, instead of self-consciousness, the pulsing within you subsided and left behind a fervent hunger in its place.

Again. You needed it again.

Killer brought his hand to your mouth, fingers glistening with your slick. You parted your lips without hesitation, letting him in. The tang of your fluid on your tongue reawakened spent nerves, making you sensitive all over again. Killer let out a soft curse when you sucked, tongue sliding between his fingers to get every drop. Your eyes fell closed again, focused wholly on the act of cleaning up your own mess.

Killer peered down at your face and hummed. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at them.”

You obeyed, making eye contact with each of the other three while you sucked your slick off Killer’s fingers, fresh heat searing through your body at how they marveled at you. Kid had started stroking himself through his clothes with his flesh hand, his expression in particular full of dark intent.

“There’s a good girl,” Killer praised, “see what you do to them…”

You pulled Killer’s hand out of your mouth. “Killer,” you whined, grinding your ass against him in a clear signal to go further.

Cumming in Killer’s lap and sucking on his fingers had its effect on him, because he was harder than before, pressing stiffly into your ass cheek and breathing heavily by your ear. So it came as a shock when he raised his head and said, “Kid. You can go first.”

“Nah, Killer, you go ahead,” Kid said, waving his metal hand. “According to the sounds she just made, you earned it.”

“You go first. I know you’ve wanted this for a while,” Killer insisted.

“I don’t care who goes first!” you yelled, the revelation of Kid’s interest fading into the background in your desire. “For fuck’s sake, just whip it out!”

They all laughed at that, which only pissed you off further. Then Kid’s voice echoed across the room, sending a pleasant chill down your spine.

“Pass her here.”

Killer scooped you up and leaned over, holding you out to Kid like you weren’t a whole adult. The chairs were close enough together that Kid could reach you without getting up, merely holding out his metal arm and letting Killer drop you onto his palm. His arm didn’t even dip with your weight.

Kid tipped his hand suddenly so you fell into his lap, momentum throwing you against his chest and making you instinctively grab him for support.

“I get it, Y/n. You’re desperate. But you don’t have to grab me over it,” he jeered, and not for the first time in your life, you seriously contemplated striking your captain.

“Hold on,” Wire said, patting his pockets and frowning. “Does anyone have condoms?”

“Not an issue,” you said abruptly, “I’m set on birth control.”

“I thought you didn’t get any,” Heat asked, now back in his chair.

“There are other reasons to take birth control. It makes your menstrual symptoms less severe.”

“I knew that,” Wire said, sounding proud of himself.

”No one cares! Get on with it!”

Kid looked thoughtful, smile faltering as he deliberated over something. “...Wire may be right, actually.”

“What?” You stared at him.

“I mean, four guys, after you haven’t had a partner in years? It’s far too much. You could end up hurt.”

You searched his eyes, trying to figure out where this sudden change of heart came from. It was so unlike Kid that you didn’t even protest at first, bewildered.

“I wouldn’t want you to walk away from this with regrets, Y/n,” Kid said gravely. “You’ve come once already, so that should be adequate. End the night on a good note.”

“No! No, I can keep going! Please, please!” you bid urgently.

Kid’s somber look broke at your plea, his lip curling like he was trying not to smile, and you realized that he was messing with you. Arousal flipped into anger in an instant.

“You’re such a dick!” you cried. “I can’t believe you! I know you want it too, so stop fucking with me and start fucking me already!”

Kid’s infuriating smirk grew wider. “Beg for my cock.”

“Ugh! Fine, you jerk!” You ground your hips into his bulge to help make your point, face flushed hot as you glared at him. “Please, Kid! I–I need you. I need to be violated in the way that only a ruthless pirate captain can.”

It was kind of stupid, but Kid was vain enough that the words got to him anyway, his nostrils flaring with the steep breath he took. “That easy, huh? I always knew deep down, you were a slut.”

You slapped him, hard. The slap echoed as the room fell quiet, and though Kid was momentarily stunned, you felt his dick twitch through his pants.

“You’re the one making me beg–” you started to say, but Kid grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a rough, possessive kiss. He wasted no time in claiming your mouth with his tongue, probing it deep to wrap around yours. You moaned into his mouth, grinding on him for some much-needed friction. Kid pulled back, but you followed, straining forward to kiss him again.

The fingers of his flesh hand curled into your hair, gripping tight and forcing you back off of him. The slight pain pulled another little moan out of you, and Kid grinned.

“One more time. Tell me how bad you need it,” he said huskily.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t,” you whined.

“Good girl.”

He prompted you to lift your hips so he could reach his pants, undoing them and finally, finally pulling out his cock. You pulled your own pants and underwear down before Kid could think to rip them, not keen on doing a bottomless walk of shame in front of the crew later. Kicking off the garments, you repositioned yourself over Kid. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around his thickness to line yourself up.

“Fuck,” he husked. “If your pussy’s as small as your hands…”

“Wait, Kid,” Killer interjected. “Make her face us.”

“Why?” Kid asked, but you had already started to turn around in his lap to comply with Killer’s wishes. Kid’s voice suddenly dropped low, heavy with interest. “Oh.”

“What?” You glanced over your shoulder, where Kid’s eyes were boring into the spot right below the back of your neck. You realized he had never seen your tattoo before. “Oh, my ta–ahh!”

Kid slid two fingers up through your slit, finishing with a little circle around your clit that made your legs weaken. “Now when did you go and get that done?” he murmured.

“Fewmonthsago,” you slurred. “Kid…”

He grabbed your hips, positioning you over his cock. “I wouldn’t have made you wait so long if I had known. You’ve been dedicated all this time, haven’t you?” He guided you down slowly, thick cock parting you gradually.

You bit your lip and nodded, that aching within you finally eased. Kid’s grip tightened as your hips met, digging into your skin.

“Shit,” he cursed. “You’re really wet. Killer wasn’t joking. Now, face forward.”

You turned your head back to look at the other three. Everyone else had taken their dicks out at that point and were stroking themselves, Heat’s free hand holding a still-burning blunt. You glanced between them–all eyes were on you, making you burn up even hotter. Their gazes felt like a physical sensation on your skin. Your own gaze faltered, though, when a harsh smack landed on your ass.

“Ah!” you yelped, the sting both grounding you and riling you up worse.

“Captain, at least ask if she likes it first,” Wire admonished.

“She got tighter, Wire,” Kid responded, groping your ass cheeks. “I think she likes it just fine.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, starting to move. With your feet unable to touch the floor, you had to use your thighs to squeeze Kid’s lap and lift yourself up and down, but you had plenty of stamina to go at that point and a monstrous, intoxicated desire spurring you on. You set a quick, needy pace, fucking yourself on his rigid cock so he hit all the right spots, making whimpers slip out between your panting breaths. You rolled your hips whenever they met Kid’s, grinding him into your g-spot deliciously.

“Fuck,” Kid groaned, and smacked your other ass cheek, making you moan. “Look at you go, princess. I’m gonna cum soon if you don’t calm down.” He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in tightly, forcing you to stop. You cried out in protest, your pleasure mercilessly cut off. “Kid!”

Kid leaned in and kissed your tattoo, moving your hips up and down at a cruelly slow pace and ignoring your cries.

“Kid, go faster! Please!” you begged.

“No,” he said, and even without facing him you could hear the grin in his voice. “You have to earn it.”

“How?!”

“By being honest, for once.” He kissed your tattoo again, and this time let his tongue drag over the inked skin, making a shiver run down your spine. “Did I hear you correctly earlier, Y/n? You haven’t just been flirting with us for fun…” He pulled you down on his cock, holding your hips down and rolling his up into you. “You’ve caught some feelings as well, so say it again.”

“What do I say?” you whined, too needy to remember.

“You said you love us,” Wire said smugly, now in possession of the blunt.

“Oh!” you said, both in surprise and because Kid was fucking you slowly and deeply now. “I…b-but…”

“Shy now?” Heat chuckled.

“That’s so embarrassing, come on,” you protested, “just hurry up and go faster, Kid!”

Kid’s lips pressed to your tattoo again, and you could feel his lips curl into a smirk. “No.”

“I don’t think that pace is gonna change until you say it,” Killer mused.

“Fine!” you huffed, then lowered your voice. “I… I love you…”

“What was that?” Kid asked.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Killer said.

Wire grinned, and Heat shook his head. “Me neither.”

Your face burned. “I love you,” you said again, though it was still a bit quiet in your embarrassment.

“Louder,” Kid commanded, slowing his pace even further until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Kid, please. I love you.”

“You can do better than that. Tell us how you really feel.”

“I love you!” you whined. Kid picked up his pace ever so slightly.

“And Killer?”

“Y-Yes! I love him too!”

“And W–”

“And Wire and Heat! All of you!”

“Say it again!” Kid smacked your ass.

“Ah-! I love you!” you cried it out, again and again, and Kid did not fuck you properly until you were screaming it. Only then did he give you what you needed, bouncing you on his cock fervently with his metal hand. Everyone watched, enraptured, three pairs of eyes on you, on your bouncing breasts, on the point where your body met Kid’s.

“My loyal girl,” Kid praised, tongue on your tattoo again, “you like getting fucked by your captain?”

“Yes!”

“Wanna be shared by everyone?”

“Yes! I’m, I’m gonna cum-!”

“Who do you belong to?”

“The Kid Pirates!” you cried.

“Good girl. Now, cum on my cock for everyone to see.”

You came hard, orgasm hitting you like a battering ram, making your body tighten and lock up. Kid held you down as you pulsed around him, cursing as he tried to keep himself from tipping over the edge along with you.

For a minute, there was nothing but the soft sound of slapping around you as the other three jacked off to the sight of your bliss. You went limp against Kid, panting.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Heat muttered. “So fucking hot.”

“Have some discipline, Heat,” Kid said above you, “you’re next anyway.”

“Ugh, I hate edging.” Heat let go of himself, holding his hand away.

“It’ll be worth it,” Wire said. “Don’t let the weed make you finish early.”

“Easy for you to say, Wire. You do this kind of thing all the time.”

As your fuzzy brain started to grasp cognitive thought once more, you wondered if that was why Wire seemed to be in charge here. You always knew he was kinky, but never realized just how much experience he had.

Killer, who’d been holding onto the blunt while Kid was occupied, now passed it to Kid, who took a deep hit before offering it to you. You held up your hand in refusal, needing to catch up on oxygen first.

“How you holding up, Y/n?” Wire asked.

“Fucking fantastic,” you said earnestly, making them all laugh.

“Who’s great idea was this, again?” Kid asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you said, shifting and dismounting off him, making him grunt from the stimulation. You pecked him on the lips, silently grateful that he had pushed you past your nervousness. “Thanks, Captain.”

Kid smirked proudly as you started to slide off his lap, and he grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking away. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re passing you around, remember?” With that, he pulled you back into him and picked you up, making you squeak in surprise, before stepping over to Heat and setting you down onto his lap.

Heat’s blush deepened as you immediately recovered and hooked your arms around his neck. He parted his lips when you leaned in to kiss him, his tongue sliding over yours, gently stroking and intertwining, making you moan sweetly. He started touching himself again, which you noticed once Heat started to gasp into your mouth.

“Heat, wait,” you said. “Let me.”

Heat moved his hand away, and you replaced it with your own. The feeling of something metallic and hard against your palm made you pause, pulling your hand away to look. Heat had his dick pierced, a frenum ladder–a set of parallel barbells going up the underside and stopping at the frenum.

“Oh, wow,” you said, running your thumb down the underside of his cock to feel the metal underneath. Heat groaned, his dick twitching. “Is it sensitive?”

“Yes,” he hissed, closing his hand around yours and making you start to jerk him off. “Don’t be a tease.”

“Says you! You were the one who tormented me earlier!”

“You look good when you’re needy,” Heat bit out, thrusting up into your hand. “I couldn’t help it. Now squeeze harder.”

“No, I wanna try something else,” you said, stopping. “I want to know what it feels like in my mouth.”

“Nope, sorry. I’ll come too quickly and have to sit out the rest of the session.”

You frowned. “Fiiiine. You’d better make up for it, then.”

Heat’s brows raised, then his eyes narrowed, and suddenly you felt as if you possibly made a mistake in your choice of words.

“Uh oh,” Wire said, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Make up for it?” Heat sneered down at you. “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Heat,” you tried to placate him, but his tight grip on your hips told you that you were in trouble.

“Come here,” he snapped, pulling you to hover over his dick. “I don’t have a metal arm like Kid to toss you around with–so instead, you’re going to do what I say.”

It was so unlike Heat that you found yourself complying right away, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Or what?” you teased.

“Or we’ll find out your limits the hard way, regardless of what Wire says,” Heat lined himself up with your entrance, “I get the feeling you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“How should I know? I’ve never tried–oh…” You lost your words as Heat guided you to sink down onto his length. He was thicker toward the base, letting you feel each one of his piercings slide along your sensitive insides. “Oh, fuck, that’s–that’s good...”

Heat smirked. “Like the piercings?”

“Yes!” You rolled your hips to feel them move inside you, your eyelids fluttering shut. “Fuck.”

“Eyes on me, babe.” Heat instructed, and you snapped your eyes open to see him looking at you intensely, the hunger in his gaze sending prickles all over your skin. He slid his hands up your sides to your front, groping your breasts, pulling a moan out of you when he rubbed your nipples with his thumbs. You look down to watch him do it, contracting around him at the sight, and Heat corrected you with a harsh slap to your ass.

“Ah!”

“She does tighten up,” Heat grinned, his arm muscles flexing as he delivered a second firm smack.

“Heat!”

“Eyes up.”

You kept your eyes on him this time, even as he teased and tugged at your nipples. Gripping him tight, you rolled your hips again, the combination of the piercings and your chest being played with nearly making your eyes roll back. “Oh, fuck. Spank me again.”

Heat grinned. “Ask nicely.”

“Please!”

“Attagirl.” Heat smacked your other ass cheek, making you cry out. “What do you say?”

“T-Thank you!”

He chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?” One of his hands snaked its way up your chest and around your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck.

Wire spoke up, his voice a firm admonishment. “Heat.”

“M’not squeezin’,” Heat said, pulling you in for another greedy kiss. You eagerly reciprocated, sucking on his tongue and making him groan. “Fuck…Come on, ride me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. You planted your feet on the floor and started to lift yourself up and down on his cock, whimpering at the unique sensation of riding a pierced dick. Heat was already filling you up, to feel the barbells stimulating you on top of it was almost overwhelming in your intoxicated state.

“There’s a good girl,” Heat moaned. “Oh, fuck. Look at you.”

Heat fondled your chest as you rode him at a brisk, even pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit into him. You felt yourself rapidly approach the edge, until he pinched your nipple a little too hard, and the pain brought you out of it with a yelp.

“Ah-! Too hard, Heat,” you whimpered.

“See?” Wire said. “This is why you have to discuss these things. We really should have started by now.”

“Isn’t it too late?” Kid asked.

“No.”

“Where do we start, then?” Killer wondered.

“With what she wants out of this,” Wire said. “If she can even focus right now.”

You could not, especially when Heat chose right then to smack your ass again, which brought you right back to the edge. “Fuck, Heat!”

“Gonna cum, pretty girl?” Heat whispered huskily.

“Yes! I’m close!”

“That’s too bad–I want you to slow down.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” Heat lifted his legs so you could no longer reach the floor, your riding stopped in an instant.

“Ahh, no no no, Heat! Don’t stop!” you protested, trying to stretch your legs to reach the floor again, but he was much taller than you were.

“Only if you agree to slow down.” Heat said, massaging your breasts. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll do anything, just let me keep going, please!”

“Then ride me, slowly, and pay attention to what we’re talking about.” Heat lowered his legs again, graciously letting you reach the floor. “Otherwise I’ll just stop again when you’re about to cum.”

You nodded, slowly working yourself up and down his shaft. It was torturous to go at that pace after all you had been treated to, but the moment you sped up, he would just stop you anyway.

The blunt was passed to Heat at that moment, and he took a deep hit. With his other hand, he pulled you closer to him by the neck, sealing his lips around yours. You followed his lead, inhaling as he exhaled, filling your lungs with smoke.

Heat didn’t force you to take his entire hit, knowing he could handle bigger lungfuls than you could, and you both exhaled at the same time. He passed the blunt to Wire and placed both hands on your face, pulling you in again for a kiss that tasted of smoke.

“You listenin’?” Heat asked. He was looking at you with adoration now, and you nodded, wanting nothing more than to please him. “Wire asked you what you want out of this.”

He went back to massaging your chest the way you liked, playing with your nipples more gently while you rolled your hips and whimpered, trying to think while being teased. Your brain was already high on weed and dick–what more could you want? If you could do absolutely anything more than this, what would you do?

A mental image suddenly came into your mind. Of course. The only thing better than being used by all of them would be being used by all of them at the same time. You pictured it vividly, taking them in all three of your holes at once, and the thought turned you on so much that suddenly you were at the edge again. It only took one more roll of your hips before your orgasm snuck up on you, making you tremble all over as you choked on a gasp.

“She’s cumming,” Heat announced as you fluttered around him. “Fuuuck.”

“From that pace?” Killer asked. “Is she reaching her limit?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kid said.

“I’m with Kid. It’s something else,” Wire said. “Come on, Y/n, use your words.”

You sagged against Heat as your orgasm pulsed through your insides, muttering against his chest. Heat laughed. “She said she knows what she wants,” he said. “I think she just had a nice little mental image to get off to.”

Heat rubbed your back as you came down, then had you dismount him. He picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, stepping over and letting you fall into Wire’s big arms.

“Well?” Wire said, repositioning you so you were sitting and facing the group. He rubbed your hips fondly. “Tell us what you want, and we’ll make it happen.”

You turned to look at Wire’s dick up close. He was proportional to his height, twice as big as the others at least. There was a single frenum piercing that you immediately went to touch.

“Pay attention,” Wire said, though he made no move to stop you.

 At that point, you had not an ounce of reservation or shame left to be found. “I want everyone at the same time,” you said. “All holes.”

“Ohh?” Wire said. Kid whistled, and Heat chuckled in surprise while Killer leaned forward in interest.

“I’ve…I’ve always wanted to try something like that,” you admitted. “I can handle it.”

Wire bent down to kiss the top of your head. “Alright. We’ll work up to it, but first things first. Sorry to ask, but when was the last time you went to the bathroom?” After you told him, he nodded. “Then we should be fine for anal.”

“And in the meantime…” you said, lifting up on your knees and going to straddle his cock, but Wire turned you back around to face the group, pressing down on your shoulders so you were forced to sit further up on his lap. “Wire?”

“You’re not ready for me yet,” Wire said. “Maybe after another rotation.”

“What?! Come on!”

“Hush.” Wire pulled you back by the hips so you could feel his big cock nestled against your ass, an unfair tease of what you could potentially have had he not been so damn concerned for your well-being.

Before you could protest, Wire ran his huge hands down your body, one of them spreading your legs. Two thick fingers burrowed their way down and penetrated you, the length of them making it easy for him to reach your g-spot with a slight curling motion.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped, squeezing around his fingers.

“Let’s get this started. For your sake, I’ll condense what we need to go through as much as possible without you getting hurt. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“There’s my good girl.” Wire rewarded you by rubbing your clit with his thumb, making your toes curl. He stopped far too soon as he began his questioning. “Now, what are your hard limits? The things you will absolutely not do?”

“Mm, fuck…Hard limits?” you echoed, trying to think while he had two fingers massaging your g-spot. “Um, um… No watersports. And, no calling me really mean things? ‘Slut’ and ‘whore’ and stuff are fine, though, but I don’t want to be actually insulted.”

“You prefer being teased about what you like, right? Rather than being told you’re only good for sex, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, you understand. I don’t like being called stupid or useless.”

“Fair enough,” said Killer, one hand on his dick while the other held the blunt to a hole in his mask. “I don’t like that kind of thing either.”

“You can call me a dumb slut any day,” Heat muttered, surprising you and making Kid laugh, “but I get it.”

“And I don’t want to be throat-fucked really hard,” you said. “I want you to use my mouth, but only go into my throat at the end to cum. Actually, I’d rather you came in my mouth than on my face–hhn!”

Wire resumed rubbing your clit again as a reward for your honesty, short-circuiting your brain until he stopped. “Deepthroating once is okay, only at the end. No finishing on your face. What else?”

You continued that way, detailing your limits while getting fingered, with Wire teasing your clit every time you finished answering a question. Wire added a third finger inside you once he moved on to asking you about positions, and by the time the safety discussion was done, he didn’t let up playing with your clit, either. His fingers curled and rubbed against your g-spot in perfect rhythm with his thumb, his other hand teased your chest, and, legs shaking, you came hard into his hand a few blissful minutes later.

“Aw, my sweet little girl can’t stop cumming for her superiors,” Wire praised, turning your head to kiss you. “Love how you use that crazy stamina of yours for us.”

“I’d do anything for you,” you said earnestly, a little drunk on the rush of your orgasm.

Wire blinked for a moment in surprise, then smiled, running his other hand over your head adoringly. “All the more reason you deserve this. Now, clean up this mess you made,” he said, holding his slick-coated fingers to your lips, “and I’ll pass you to Killer.”

You held Wire’s hand in your smaller ones as you licked and sucked on his fingers. He probed inside your mouth teasingly, rubbing your tongue and feeling around, working you back up so you’d be nice and needy for Killer. As if that would be an issue–with the Red Sky in your blood, you knew you could go all night. You wanted to go all night.

“Don’t miss a single spot,” Wire muttered in your ear, and you complied, tongue weaving in-between his fingers obediently. “Do you like how you taste?”

“Uh-huh,” you said honestly, sending a noticeable wave of excitement through the group.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Heat groaned, letting his tongue loll out as he stroked himself.

“She sure makes it look good, doesn’t she, Killer?” Kid grinned. “Why don’t you eat her out later?”

“Yeah,” Killer replied, a breathiness to his voice, fisting himself faster. “I intend to.”

Letting you cool down this way gave you the chance to really focus on watching the others, and you never realized how tantalizing it was to watch the three men you crushed on jack off at the sight of you. Thrilled and impatient, you pulled Wire’s hand away. “I want Killer now.”

Killer growled in excitement at your words, sending a shiver up your spine. Wire took mercy on the both of you, deciding you had done a good enough job. He scooped you up, carrying you bridal-style, and handed you off to the masked man.

Killer, eager to have you to himself for a little while, opted to have you facing him. 

“What the hell, man? Face her forward,” Kid complained.

“No,” Killer said, “I want to see her face when I make her cum.”

He didn’t miss how you squirmed on his lap at the statement, a rumble in his chest. You didn’t know which you preferred–both watching the others and having one-on-one attention was elating, but it would have been better if you could see Killer’s expression. You supposed him wanting you this way would have to be enough for now, though you still longed to kiss him. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Killer,” your purr was just on the edge of a pouty whine, “won’t you kiss me? Please?”

Killer hesitated just a moment, prompting the others to speak up.

“She’s been so good, Kill, don’t you think?” Wire said.

“Go on, we won’t look,” said Heat.

“No pressure,” Kid added.

Killer’s mask tilted down, and you knew he was looking right at you. “If that’s what you really want.”

“I’ve wanted that for a long time,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d get to either.” His large hands rubbed up and down your sides. “Didn’t think any of this would ever happen. You were so…”

“Yeah?”

“Awkward.”

The other three barked out laughs, and you pouted. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“But even before that…” Killer said, one hand tracing the scar on your clavicle, “you were quiet… lonely.” He brought both hands to cradle your face.

Though only faced with the mask, you felt like you could see through it to his eyes. “I’m not lonely anymore,” you whispered.

One of his hands shifted to cover your eyes, and you held your breath in anticipation. A moment later, you felt the soft, smooth warmth of his lips pressing to yours. The kiss was hesitant, uncertain, but heavy with wanting; you parted your lips slightly to give him silent permission to go further. When he didn’t, you poked your tongue out to trace his bottom lip, testing, and Killer responded with a soft groan. He pulled you closer with his free hand, deepening the kiss and finally tasting you, his tongue meeting yours. The touch of the wet muscles released some sort of floodgate within him; suddenly he was kissing you fervently, all that wanting let loose onto you. You felt him pull away, only to press a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, working his way down to your scar, which he dragged his tongue across.

You whimpered, reaching up to dig your fingers into his hair and hold on, core aching with need as he kissed down to your breasts.

Suddenly you felt yourself tipping down, yelping as Killer flipped you lengthwise, your chest in his lap and your legs in the air on either side of his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower half, firmly holding you in place. There was no warning before he pressed his face into your cunt.

“Ah, K-Killer!” you moaned as he lapped and slurped at the sensitive flesh, tonguing between your folds and into your center. He ate you out with all the fervor of a man starved, his goatee rubbing into your clit as he went.

“That’s one way to cure cottonmouth,” Heat said, prompting Kid to lean over to high-five him.

“Don’t be lazy, Y/n,” Wire tutted, “suck him off.”

“Yeah, suck his dick!” Kid encouraged, tongue sticking out.

“Fuck, o-okay,” you breathed, bracing yourself against his muscular thighs with one hand and wrapping your fingers around his cock with the other. You guided his leaking tip into your mouth. It was warm and smooth on your tongue, the salty tang of pre-cum leaving your head spinning. You couldn’t really bob your head from that position, but you did your best to try and please him, though you felt too distracted by the way he plunged his tongue inside you. Killer, on the other hand, didn’t seem thrown off by the added stimulation, merely moaning into your cunt and continuing his assault on your senses.

“Attagirl,” Heat praised. “Take him deeper.”

“Watch us while you do it,” Wire commanded.

Killer had a slight upward curve to his dick, so from that angle, you found that taking him further into your mouth wasn’t so difficult. As long as you braced yourself, you could handle it without choking. You strained forward, letting him deeper into your mouth, eyes flicking up to meet the others’ gazes as you did. The eye contact tightened the building tension within you even tighter, and your moan was muffled when Killer started sucking on your clit.

“Fuck, there you go, princess,” Kid said.

“Mmff-!” you pulled off of Killer’s dick, gasping. “Gonna cum! Killer!”

Just like that, Killer manhandled you to flip you back the right way up, pulling you down onto his cock all the way to the base. He had his mask tilted partway up, beautiful blue eyes cast in shadow barely visible, but fixated on you. He started bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing, fingers sinking into your hips, the muscles of his arms and abs flexing. Killer gritting his teeth, too lost in the euphoria of fucking you to worry about his face being visible.

“Killer!” you moaned, holding on for dear life, his handsome face in view as you felt yourself climbing to yet another dizzying orgasm. You trembled as it washed over you, and Killer growled when he felt your walls spasming.

“You cumming on my cock, pretty girl?” he said huskily, holding you down and thrusting up into your g-spot.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” you whimpered–somehow, even being the fifth time, it was just as strong as the first. You slumped against Killer, resting your hands on his chest and catching your breath. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before lowering his mask. 

You were still feeling the waves of it by the time Killer lifted you off of him, a rope of slick connecting your cunt to the tip of his dick.

“Do you need a break?” Killer asked, rubbing your back.

“I don’t know? Maybe?” you said. “I’m a bit tired, but it’s weird. No matter how hard I cum, I still want more.”

“At least drink something,” Wire suggested.

“Like cum?”

That earned you a few giggles from Heat and Kid. Wire picked up one of the water bottles on the table and tossed it at Killer, who caught it one-handed and offered it to you.

After rehydrating, you were passed to Kid. Despite his earlier protests to Killer, he faced you toward himself this time. At first you thought this was to torment you more, as he seemed eager to make you say embarrassing things so he could commit the look on your face to memory.

“Who’s your captain?” Kid demanded as he fucked up into you.

“You are!” you cried.

“And who’s your daddy?”

“Ah! Y-You are!”

Afterward, you realized he just wanted to make out while you rode him. Or maybe it was both things, but you weren’t about to complain. It was hard to tell which of you was more greedy; him for offering up this situation in the first place, or you for accepting it enthusiastically.

Heat opted to take you on the ground for his turn in the rotation, pushing you onto your hands and knees and giving backshots that had your toes curling. Finally, Wire agreed to let you ride him, facing you toward the group and letting you lower yourself onto his cock at your own pace. It was a tight fit, he was the biggest you had ever taken, but you had been fucked so thoroughly and came so many times at that point that you didn’t need any extra preparation. It only took a little bit of working yourself down to take him all.

“Theeere you go,” Wire praised as he bottomed out. You shivered at the sensation of being filled so full. He was pressed firmly against your g-spot without even needing to move or angle himself, all it took was you clenching down on him to feel bliss. He chuckled when he felt you doing so repeatedly, bending down to whisper into your ear. “How’s that big dick feel?”

“So good, Wire,” you sighed, resting your hands over his on your hips. The final blunt in the rotation was passed to Wire, and after taking his hit, he held it to your lips so you could take a hit, too.

Wire passed the blunt, then moved your hands to your lower stomach, making you feel the pronounced bulge that was there. You clenched up again at the feel of it. “You know,” he murmured, “I always had a feeling you could take all of me. That you were made for taking cock.”

“Let me see,” Kid said. 

Wire moved your hands away to show off your belly bulge. “You guys wanna take a closer look?” he asked with a lazy smirk.

Before you knew it, the other three had come over to see the spectacle up close, whistling and cooing. You flushed hotter as they felt it for themselves.

“It’s like you were made for us, babe,” Heat said. He stepped even closer so he was right in front of you, then took his cock and rubbed the tip against your clit, making you gasp. It was smooth and slick against the sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Heat!” you moaned, hands twitching, but Wire held them firmly at your sides, not letting you move.

“What?” Heat said. “After everything, you can’t take this?”

“S-Sensitive! It’s–oh god, fuck…”

“Her hands are free,” Wire pointed out to the other two, holding your hands out. Kid and Killer didn’t hesitate, positioning themselves at your sides. Wire guided your hands around their cocks, helping you jerk them off. The group forced you to stay trapped in that position, Wire rocking his hips all the while. Your eyes rolled back; the build was steep and intense, causing tears to form at the corners of your eyes. The others praised you while you whimpered.

“Did you think about us? When you were alone in the shower?” Wire muttered into your ear.

“Yes! I’m, I’m cumming,” you whined. None of them let up, pushing you over the edge yet again.

“How many times is this?” Kid grinned as you gasped and shuddered.

“That makes six,” Killer said.

“About to be seven,” Wire said, reaching around to rub your clit in expert circles. 

“Wire!” You immediately twitched and writhed, but couldn’t get away. “It’s too soon, it’s too soon!”

“You can take it,” he assured, thrusting up harder. Before he was mostly still, this time his massive cock slid in and out of your cunt at a slow pace. You didn’t think you could cum again so soon, but the overstimulation soon went from maddening to euphoric under his experienced touches. Only another minute of you keening, and then you came again.

“Told you,” Wire said as he finally released your hands. “Seven.”

You fell back against Wire, feeling a bit light-headed. Heat patted your cheek and Killer ruffled your hair.

“Still good to keep going?” Wire asked, grinding his hips against yours to draw out your orgasm. You didn’t respond, too fucked-out, still riding the sensation of the little pulses shooting through your core. “I’m gonna need a response if you want this to continue, sweetheart.”

Your voice was small and shaky. “Don’t stop.”

“You heard her,” Kid grinned.

“What do you think, then, Y/n?” Wire asked. “You ready for all of us?”

“Y-Yeah…” you said. “Just…gimme a minute.”

“And everyone else? You all still in?”

The rest of the group gave eager agreements. Wire helped you dismount from him and let you rest against his broad chest. In the meantime, he started directing the others to set up. There wasn’t much to do, just taking the blanket from the nearby bed and putting it onto the floor for some extra cushioning. Everyone took a drink break, and the last blunt was stubbed out on the now-full ashtray. You went to sit in the center of the blanket, and the others followed. There was a brief discussion on how to make the positions work, you were given another check-in to ensure you were okay with the setup, and anyone who hadn’t fully disrobed did so.

Killer laid down on his back, taking your hand as you crawled over him. You mounted his cock eagerly; despite all the prior attention, you were finally getting to try acting out one of your fantasies, and had perked right back up at the chance.

“Nervous?” Killer asked as Kid took up position behind you.

You shook your head. “You know I trust you guys with my life, right?”

“That’s right,” Kid said, pressing a kiss to the tattoo on your back. Then he placed a hand on your back and pushed you forward to expose your cunt to him. He positioned his cock right up against Killer’s, pushing against it and forward to stretch your cunt until it gave way to his, too. You bit your lip as you were filled by both men simultaneously–the stretch was just like taking Wire.

“Who fills you more?” Wire questioned as he took place at your side, taking your hand and putting it on his cock. “Our captain and first mate, or me?”

“I can’t really tell,” you answered honestly, wrapping your hand around the base of him.

“I guess we’ll just have to give you more practice, then,” he grinned.

Heat stepped over Killer, standing in front of you. “Open wide, babygirl,” he purred, and you did so, tongue sticking out like a landing strip for his cock. He eased himself into your mouth gently, cursing when you started to suck on him. The feeling of his piercings on your tongue was fun, a little sensory treat for you to play with.

Kid started to thrust first, Killer waiting a bit to pick up on Kid’s rhythm before he joined him. He timed himself so you were never left empty; if Kid was pulling back, Killer was thrusting in, and vice versa. The two of them were in perfect sync like they’d done this before, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Between Kid’s grip on your hips and Killer’s hands on your waist, you were held steady so you didn’t rock too far forward, keeping you feeling the full brunt of their combined attack.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” Heat said, placing a hand on the back of your head and starting to thrust shallowly into your mouth. Now that you had been pushed to make eye contact so much during the rotations, there was no more hesitation from you as you looked up through your eyelashes at Heat, who cursed at the sight.

“Oh, fuck, you look good like that,” he muttered, “sucking my cock while getting railed. You feel so fucking good, shit.”

“Isn’t she just perfect?” Wire cooed, guiding your hand to pump his cock. “Servicing us all with those slutty little holes of hers, and doing such a good job of it, too.”

Your moans were muffled by Heat’s cock, but the sound made the others’ grip on you tighten, their thrusts increasing in force. It was almost everything you had wanted, their cocks a drug to you as much as the weed was–you didn’t think you could feel any better. But even then, with three of them inside you pounding you into oblivion, you still wanted more. During the discussion, Wire made you agree to show you could take double penetration before trying triple. You had no choice but to comply, but like you had told Kid earlier, they had no idea just what you could handle. 

You gave the safety signal with your trembling free hand, holding up three fingers. Wire immediately barked at the other three to stop, and when they pulled out of you, you felt emptier than when before you had started.

“You okay? What’s wrong?” Wire asked. The whole group was alert and focused on you now.

“I took two, like you said!” you cried out. “I don’t want to jerk you off, Wire, I want you all at once, like you promised!”

Wire started to laugh while the others relaxed.

“That’s all?” Killer huffed. “I was worried for a second.”

Kid smacked your ass. “That’s my girl! A true Kid pirate.” He pulled you up by the neck so your chest was flush with his back, growling into your ear. “You’re just a greedy little thing, aren’t you? Need us all right this second, hmm?”

“Fuck, yes, just hurry up,” you whined.

Kid held his hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he commanded.

You spat into his palm, and he stroked his cock with that hand. “Alright, boys, let’s rearrange. Wire? What do you think?”

“I’ll take her mouth,” Wire said. “Too big for triple. Otherwise, first choice of ‘loot’ goes to the captain.”

“Her ass is mine.”

“I’m good here,” Killer said.

Heat joined Kid and Killer behind you while Wire took his place in front. He had to sit up on his legs for his cock to be at the right height to line up with your head.

“First Killer and Heat start, then Kid, so I can keep an eye on her. Once I think she’s good, I’ll take her mouth,” Wire directed.

Killer and Heat penetrated your cunt at the same time, hilting themselves before Kid pressed the head of his cock against your ass. The weed had relaxed your muscles enough so that there was little resistance, but you still closed your eyes at the unique feeling of him entering you there. It had been a while since you played with yourself anally, so adding it to the mix of sensations was a thrill. As Kid filled you up, Heat and Killer noticeably tensed in pleasure, the space inside you growing even smaller with the third addition.

“Tight,” Kid muttered, pulling out slightly before pushing in even further, making you moan as you were stuffed to the brim.

“But she did it,” Wire noted, looking proud. He stroked your cheek. “Sorry to have underestimated you.” You responded by opening your mouth, and Wire grinned. “Little slut. Alright, here I come.”

You could only really take the first two inches of Wire in your mouth, but that was enough, you swirled your tongue over his frenum piercing as you sucked him off. The other three took that as a signal to start. Kid went at his own brutal pace, steady but harsh, while the other two were more gentle as they figured out a good rhythm. At first it was disorganized and more uncomfortable than you had expected, until Wire directed Kid to slow down, and suddenly the other three fell into the perfect pace. At that point, you feared you had no rational thought left, every bit of cognition fucked out of your body. A warm, thick haze fell over your mind as they ravaged you, some part of you finally feeling relief from being used so thoroughly by your superiors. It was the satisfaction of your deepest fantasies coming true. Every nerve in your body was attuned to the feeling of their skin on you, against you, inside you. 

Their desire for you was evident in their desperation, in their hands all over your body, in their praises and groans and whines of your name. At the center of their carnal affection, you finally felt whole.

Wire dug his fingers into your hair, grunting that he was close. You were, too, but you couldn’t tell them as you were. The other three figured it out when they felt your walls flutter around their cocks.

“She came.”

“Fuck, she came again.”

“Good girl, good girl.”

You could barely tell who said what, but the following curse of “f-fuck!” came from Wire, and a moment later, a salty, slightly bitter taste coated the back of your tongue. You swallowed it down without a second thought, fully in subspace and never happier.

Heat came next; you couldn’t really feel it, only noticing once he pulled out and you were suddenly, tragically emptier.

“Just you and me, Kill,” Kid said.

Wire pulled out of your mouth, and you collapsed forward onto Killer, fingers scraping against the curly fuzz of his chest hair.

“Easy, just–mm–relax,” Killer grunted, hands traveling up your sides. “Fuck, you don’t know how good you feel.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you panted. “Keep g-going.”

You rested your head on Killer’s chest as they double-teamed you, content to lay there and be used. It came as a surprise when you felt fingers rubbing your clit–Kid had reached around to tease you.

“One last one, princess,” he said.

“Ah, Kid! I don’t think–” you started, but Kid smacked your ass hard and made your words end in a yelp.

“Trust your captain.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” You hung your head down, breaths coming out short, putting all your focus on your lower half.

“Just a bit more,” Killer urged. “Just a bit–fuck, I’m at my limit.”

Killer emptied inside you with a low groan. Kid didn’t let up, rubbing your clit between his thumb and forefinger, pushing you to the edge with that sheer, brutal determination that he approached everything in life with.

“I’m almost there,” Kid promised. “Cum for me, Y/n, cum for your captain.”

“Kid!” you cried, “Kid, Kid, Kid–!”

You both hit your peak at the same time, you with a tired whimper, Kid with a throaty groan. You felt like you had dissolved into a billion little sparks, unable to do anything but pulse and twitch. Then you went limp, all energy seeming to drain out of your body at once.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Wire asked, and you responded with a weak grunt of confirmation.

Kid and Killer pulled out, the latter sitting up and supporting you against him.

“Just rest,” Killer said. “We’ll take care of everything.”

“Wait. One last thing,” Kid said. He spread your ass cheeks, a smirk etching itself across his face when he saw the cum leaking out of your holes. “Yeah, that’s good. Nicely done, princess.”

You just pressed your face into Killer’s chest and grunted again. The four men chuckled.

“Let’s get her cleaned up,” Kid said, holding his hands out to you. Killer picked you up for one final pass to Kid, who stood you on your feet and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You look like a fucking mess.”

“Mm,” was the only noise you made, though it still managed to sound sarcastic, and Kid laughed. He detached his metal arm, setting it on the ground, then supported you with his remaining arm as you walked on trembling legs to the bathroom.

Kid started the shower, stepping inside it with you to make sure you wouldn’t collapse. You leaned against him, sighing as the hot water soothed your tired muscles.

“I guess I lived up to my hometown’s reputation after all,” you mumbled into his chest.

“No one gives a shit,” Kid said. “You should be happy you got to do this.”

“I am,” you grabbed the soap and started scrubbing your front. “I just think it’s funny. After all that time, you know?”

“Yeah.” He spun you around so the water hit your front. “After all that time. You were so cold before. I always figured you’d leave after your business was done.”

“I thought so, too,” you said, reminiscing. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

Kid helped you lather soap on your back, then spun you around to let it rinse off. You looked up at him. He was standing over you not unlike that day all those years ago, when you had marched up to him and demanded to join his crew. Except instead of a sneer on his face, there was only a soft look.

You felt yourself tear up. Kid’s expression changed to one of alarm. “Woah, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“You sure? You don’t regret this, right?”

“No. It was exactly what I wanted.” You smiled up at him to show you were fine, even as you sniffled.

“Okay. Good,” he said, looking relieved. “It was what I wanted, too.”

You hugged him tight. “I do have a question, though.”

“What?”

“What was the ‘deal��� you guys were talking about earlier?”

Kid snorted. “Ages ago, we talked about which crewmates we hadn’t fucked yet, and all of us agreed that we would have smashed you if we had the chance. So we decided that none of us would make a move until you did.”

“Is that all? Then why did you get mad at Wire?”

“Because we all know that he’s a huge flirt. None of us believed that you made the first move.”

You thought back to when you kissed him. “We were both drunk, but–yeah, he kissed me first. Despite what he says.”

You and Kid chuckled. After getting cleaned up, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went back out. The others had all redressed by then. You were about to flop into your chair until Wire held his arms out to you. You drifted over and let him pull you into his embrace, resting against him while he massaged your thighs.

“If you want to talk about any of it, just say so,” he said. “Questions, comments, concerns.”

“I just want to eat something that’s not cock,” you said.

The others laughed, except for Heat, who shouted, “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I wasn’t hungry until you said something, damn it.”

You and the other three laughed again, this time at Heat’s expense.

“I could eat all of Whole Cake Island,” you said.

Heat started rummaging around the cabinets in the dresser. “There’s gotta be a list of nearby places to eat–huh?” There was a pause, and then Heat turned around. “Why are there a bunch of condoms in here?”

“Amenities, obviously. Remember what island you’re on,” you said. 

Wire’s hands froze where they were on your hips. “Y/n?” he said, the tone making you nervous.

“Now, listen, Wire–” you started.

“Don’t ‘listen’ me,” he said thinly. “You knew there were condoms and didn’t tell me?”

“Well, you know, I’m still good on birth control, and, uh,”

“It still matters–” Wire realized something, then grabbed your shoulders. “Did you fucking lie so you’d get creampied, you fucking slut?”

The other three howled, and you shrank in his lap, even as you squeaked out, “I’m not sorry.”

“I guess you’ll have to punish her, Wire,” Kid grinned.

“Just let us watch when you do,” Killer added.

“What did you have in mind?” Heat asked.

“Oh, I’ll come up with something.” Wire said. He tickled your sides, making you flail in his lap until you begged for mercy.

“That settles it, then,” Kid said. “Y/n? Before we leave this island, make sure you go get a big bundle of Red Sky for us to take with us.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said, heart already leaping at what the future would hold.

[cupidhoons]

UPSIDE DOWN KISS — LHS

in which . . . you give the masked hero a kiss — lhs x f! reader ୨୧ spiderman! au wc 1.2k+ ・ w general warnings, reader gets harassed in the beginning + likes n' feedback are greatly appreciated !

A/N 💌 haayyyy cupids >< i'm finally rewriting my old works 😛 i hope u guys are enjoying my writing and activity again because i sure am 🎀 i'll try my best to keep up my activity but i cant promise that bc of school (boooo)

THE RAIN WAS POURING down in icy sheets, seeping through your clothes and clinging to your skin. Every drop sent a shiver through your body, but you barely noticed. Not when your lips were pressed against his. The red mask was pulled up just enough to expose his mouth, hiding the rest of his face and keeping his identity a mystery. But right now, that didn’t matter. Right now, all you cared about was this moment, your kiss with Spider-Man.

This was supposed to be a simple thank you after he'd saved your life—not once, but twice. You’d seen his heroics from afar, sure, but never expected to be on the receiving end of them. The first time was during a late-night convenience store robbery. You’d been in the back aisle, crouching down, heart racing, hoping to avoid the attention of the armed men. But then, Spider-Man had appeared, his voice calm, almost amused, as he talked the robbers down.

“What a bunch of idiots…” Heeseung muttered, walking past where you were hiding. The moment he spotted you, he stopped, extending a hand and offering you a comforting smile beneath his mask.

“It’s safe now, y’know?” he said, his voice gentle yet confident. You took his hand, still in a daze, barely able to stammer out a “Thank you, Spider-Man.” He laughed softly, his tone light.

“It’s no problem, really,” he said with a shrug. “Just doing my job.”

The second time, though—that had been different. More intense. Just minutes ago, you were walking home alone after a late study session, cutting through the back alley to save time. You knew it wasn’t the safest route, but it was faster. That decision nearly got you in serious trouble.

“Hey, you!” a voice called from behind, making you turn in fear. You saw two men approaching, their expressions twisted with something sinister. “Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” another sneered, stepping closer. You tried to ignore them, quickening your pace, but they were relentless. One grabbed your arm, and the other reached for your purse, their hands cold and unrelenting.

“Get off of me!” you screamed, struggling against their grasp. The night air echoed with your cries until another voice sliced through.

“Didn’t you hear the lady? Get off of her!” Heeseung's voice rang, strong and authoritative. The men froze, their eyes widening before they tried to flee, but they didn’t get far. He shot webs at their wrists and ankles, tangling them in place.

He looked down at you from above, his expression hidden but his presence comforting. “Sorry you had to deal with that,” he said, his voice softer as he checked on you. You giggled, glancing at the two men struggling in their webbed binds before looking up at him through the rain.

“Thank you, Spider-Man!” you called up to him with a smile.

“Of course,” he replied. He sounded like he was smiling, too.

Your heart pounded as you called, “Why don’t you come down here? So I can properly show my gratitude!”

Heeseung hesitated, but before he could overthink it, his hands moved, lowering himself toward you. Suddenly, he was inches away, hanging upside down, his face close enough that you could see the outline of his jaw beneath the mask. Raindrops slid down his suit, mixing with the dim streetlight glow, casting shadows across his face as he looked at you.

You took a breath, stepping closer, feeling your heartbeat thunder in your ears. He was so close, close enough that you could see the faint lines of his lips through the fabric. Tentatively, you reached out, fingers brushing against the edge of his mask, tracing the outline of his jaw.

“May I?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. You felt his hesitation, the slight tension in his posture. But after a beat, he released a small sigh and nodded, letting your hand rest against his face.

Carefully, you pulled down his mask, just enough to reveal the bridge of his nose and his mouth. The pale skin beneath was a stark contrast to the dark night and bright red of his suit. And then, you leaned in, closing the gap between you.

The kiss was soft at first, almost shy. His lips were warm and gentle against yours, a stark contrast to the chill of the rain. You cupped his face, your hands trembling as you deepened the kiss. He responded, tilting his head slightly, his lips moving with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

But soon, the kiss grew more intense, more passionate. His hands found their way to your waist, steadying you as he leaned closer, his grip firm yet careful. You felt his lips part, and then his tongue slid against yours, exploring. You let out a soft whine, losing yourself in the heat of the moment. Who would’ve thought Spider-Man was such a good kisser?

Your fingers threaded through the wet strands of his hair that peeked from under his mask, tugging gently. He responded by pulling you even closer, his grip possessive, almost desperate, as if he wanted to memorize every detail of this moment.

You pulled back slightly, panting, your faces mere inches apart as you caught your breath. He was still upside down, but he held your gaze with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. For a moment, you forgot where you were, the rain, the danger, everything. All that mattered was him, the warmth of his body against yours, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“Thank you,” you whispered, brushing your thumb against his cheek, still dazed.

He gave a small, breathless laugh. “Thank you,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced up at you. “For letting me be your hero.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed as the rain continued to fall around you. Part of you wanted to stay like this forever, hidden from the world in this rainy, dim-lit alley with your masked hero.

But reality seeped in as he pulled his mask back up, his identity once again concealed. “Stay safe, okay?” he murmured, reluctantly stepping back as he prepared to swing away.

Before he could leave, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him in for one last peck on the lips, a brief, tender goodbye that left you both breathless.

“See you around, Spider-Man,” you whispered, watching him grin under his mask before he leapt into the rain-soaked night, disappearing into the city.

And even as he vanished into the shadows, you stood there, heart pounding, knowing that this wouldn't be the last time your paths would cross.

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

word count: 2.7k warnings: smut, sexual themes, intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: basically porn with a little plot - sorry. or not? if you don't want to read the explicit part, i've added a red line where it starts and ends

PART THREE previous part - next part

tag list: sltwins sarx164 hadesnumber1daughter fullmugwolffish willowsnook

MINORS DO NOT READ

As you slip into your pajamas, the soft cotton of your loose tank top and shorts providing comfort against your skin, the phone on your night stand buzzes. You sigh, feeling drained from the long night out and the emotional rollercoaster with Lando. You rub at the remaining mascara under your eyes, trying to wipe away any still left. In your softly lit room, a single lamp casts shadows on the walls as you crawl into your bed. It's a cozy escape from the night you’d just had. As you settle under the covers, the warmth of the day lingers on your skin while your chosen movie's gentle hum adds to the soothing atmosphere, creating a peaceful state of mind.

The name on your phone screen, however, makes you freeze when you finally look at it.

Lando: You still up?

Your pulse quickens. After the night you’d just had—the stolen glances, heated touches, Max hovering too close—you aren’t sure you’re ready for more of whatever this was.

You: Just about to crash. Why?

His reply comes seconds later.

Lando: Because I’m out front.

Your heart skips a beat.

You: Are you serious? Why?

Lando: Come find out.

You hesitate, knowing that letting him in will only create more complications. But the memory of his touch and the taste of his lips still linger on your skin, making the decision for you. You throw on a cardigan and walk to your front door. Through the security system's camera, you see Lando leaning casually against the door, dressed in his usual hoodie and jeans and looking far too confident for someone who showed up uninvited at this late hour. Exhaling deeply, you buzz him in and crack open your apartment door. As he steps out of the elevator, his familiar scent fills the hallway - clean, warm, with a hint of musk.

“Are you insane?” you ask him, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Probably,” he answers with a grin. “But I couldn’t just stay home after tonight.”

“You could’ve texted me like a normal person instead of lurking outside my building.”

“Would you have replied if I had?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue. He has a point. Lando's gaze softens as it sweeps over your appearance, his grin turning lopsided. His eyes linger on your pajamas, taking in the cute patterns and soft fabric. You suddenly feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, but also oddly flattered, “Cute .”

“Don’t start,” you warn, the sound of your voice echoing off the walls as you shut the door behind him. He holds up his hands in mock surrender but doesn’t move from where he’s standing in the entryway. His eyes are fixed on you, studying you with a penetrating gaze, like he’s trying to decipher some deep mystery.

“What are you doing here, Lando?” you ask again, your voice barely above a whisper now.

He shrugs, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a brief moment. “Honestly? I just wanted to see you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession. The air between you seems charged and heavy, pulsing with unspoken emotions.

He takes a step closer, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his hoodie. “All night, all I could think about was you. The way you looked at me, the way you felt when we danced... And then Max was there, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Lando…”

But he interrupts with a low and sincere voice, “I know we said ‘one time’, but it doesn't feel like enough. Not after tonight.”

Your defenses start to crumble as his words sink in. You want to say something, anything, but before you can, he closes the distance between you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” He murmurs, gently brushing his hands over your arms. “Right back atcha,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

That's all he needs to hear. His lips are on yours before either of you can overthink it, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. This kiss feels different from the last time - not playful or teasing like before, but deeper, filled with all the pent up frustration and longing.

Your hands find their way to his hoodie, gripping onto the fabric as he guides you backwards towards the couch. When your knees hit the cushions, you both break apart for a moment to catch your breath. “Are we really doing this?” Your voice trembles as you ask.

He rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. “If you tell me to stop, I will.” But you don't. Instead, you pull him back into another kiss—your answer clear.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe out, voice low. The atmosphere is charged now, every sensation amplified—the brush of his fingers against your skin like the whisper of a checkered flag, the heat of your bodies close enough to ignite. This moment has an intensity about it, like standing on the brink of a cliff, hurtling towards something that is both unknown and alluring.

You crash your lips against his with a newfound intensity, the decision made and the line crossed. Your hands, emboldened, slip beneath the soft fabric of his hoodie, exploring the contours of a body built by countless hours in the cockpit and gym. You feel every ridge of muscle, every pulse of his quickening heartbeat against your palms.

“Your hands are freezing,” Lando chuckles breathlessly, but there's a thrill in his voice that tells you he doesn't mind the chill. Or perhaps it’s the contrast he enjoys—the fire between you set against the ice of your touch. “Maybe you should warm them up then,” you tease back, your voice a raspy whisper, a green light flashing in your mind, urging you not to stop.

With a gentle tug, his hoodie is off, tossed carelessly into the shadowy corner of the room. There's an urgency now—a need to explore the terrain of his skin, to map out every part of him. Your breaths mingle, hot and fast, as you navigate this new intimacy. The world outside fades away until there's nothing left but the electric current buzzing between you, threatening to short-circuit your self-control.

Lando's eyes lock with yours, dark and intense. His pupils are blown wide, reflecting the dim light of the room. You can see the conflict there—the eagerness entwined with hesitation. “Are you sure about this?” he asks once again, his voice husky. You make a mental note to remember this about this. This carefulness, the way he needs to make sure, you’re sure.

Your answer is to pull him closer, eliminating what little space remains between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin, smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne and sweat. Your fingers trace the lines of his abs, feeling them tense under your touch. “I've never been more sure of anything,” you breathe against his neck before pressing my your lips to skin of his neck, feeling his sharp intake of breath, the way his hands tighten on your hips.

__________________________

Suddenly, you’re falling backwards onto the couch, Lando following, his body covering yours. The weight of him is intoxicating, pressing you into the cushions. Your legs part instinctively, allowing him to settle between them. The friction as he shifts against you sends sparks shooting through your body.

“Fuck,” Lando breathes, his forehead resting against yours. His curls tickle your face, and you reach up to run your fingers through them, marveling at their softness. You arch up, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of everything. Lando groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His hands are everywhere—skimming down your sides, slipping under your shirt, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Too many clothes,” you mutter, fumbling with the hem of your own shirt. Lando helps, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head. The cool air hits your exposed skin, raising goosebumps. His eyes roam hungrily over your body, his gaze so intense you can almost feel it like a physical touch.

“God, you're beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with eagerness. His hand traces the curve of your waist, fingertips dancing along your ribs. You shiver, arching into his touch. The moment stretches, charged with electricity. You can hear the pounding of your own heart, see the rapid rise and fall of Lando's chest. The air feels thick, heavy with anticipation. You reach for him, pulling him down for a searing kiss. His lips are soft but insistent against yours, tongue seeking entrance. You grant it willingly, moaning softly as the kiss deepens. Lando's hips grind against yours, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him closer. The kiss grows more desperate, teeth clashing, breaths mingling.

Lando's lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head, giving him better access. His stubble scratches deliciously against your throat as he works his way lower. When he reaches your collarbone, he pauses, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice rough with longing.

You nod, unable to form words. Your skin feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending hypersensitive. Lando continues his descent, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the swell of your breasts. His hands come up to cup them, thumbs brushing over them. “Lando,” you gasp, your voice breathy and desperate. “Please...”

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Please what?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your chest. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more contact. "Don't tease," you whine, fingers tangling in his curls. Lando chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. "But teasing is so much fun," he says, punctuating his words with a gentle nip at your collarbone.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "You," You gasp. "All of you."

He groans, grinding his hips against yours. The friction is delicious but not enough. You slide your hands down his back, feeling the muscles flex under your palms, before slipping them into the waistband of his jeans. Lando inhales sharply, "Fuck, you're driving me crazy,".

"These need to come off," You breathe, tugging at the fabric. Lando nods, his eyes dark with desire. He shifts and fumbles with the button of his jeans. You fumble with your shorts. Then you’re both looking at eachother, panting, "Like what you see?" Lando teases, voice low and husky, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you.

"Shut up," you mutter, reaching for him. He laughs, the sound rich and warm, before leaning down to capture your lips again. This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with a hunger that makes your toes curl. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You arch into his touch, desperate for more. Your fingers trace the planes of his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath your palms. Lando groans into your mouth, hips grinding against yours. The friction is delicious but not enough. You need more. As if he knows, his fingers finally dip between your thighs.

"Fuck," Lando breathes, his voice rough. "You're so wet." You can only whimper in response as he starts to move his fingers. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing the sensation, "Lando," you pant, "Please, I need you." He groans, pressing his forehead against yours. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," You breathe. "God, yes." He reaches for his discarded jeans, fumbling with the pocket for a condom. Lando's hands tremble slightly as he rolls on the condom, his eyes never leaving yours. The anticipation builds, an intensity of desire thrumming through your veins. He positions himself between your thighs, the heat of him scorching against your skin. With excruciating slowness, he pushes in, stretching and filling you completely. You both gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity. Lando stills, his forehead presses against yours, breath coming in short pants. "You okay?" he whispers, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Yes," you breathe, lifting your hips. "Move, please." He obliges, starting a slow, steady rhythm that has you seeing stars. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him closer, deeper. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, breathless moans, and whispered encouragements.

Lando's lips find yours in a searing kiss as he picks up the pace. You match him thrust for thrust, lost in the sensation of him moving inside you. Your world narrows to just this - the slide of his skin against yours, the pressure building with each thrust, a burning tension deep in your core. Lando's rhythm falters, his movements becoming more erratic. You can tell he's close. His hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. The added stimulation is almost too much. "Fuck, Lando," you gasp, arching into him. "I'm so close." He groans, burying his face in your neck. "Come for me, baby," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and desperate. It's those words that send you over the edge. Your release crashes over you in waves of white-hot pleasure. You cry out, fingers digging into Lando's back as your body shudders beneath him. The pulsing of your inner walls triggers his own climax. With a strangled moan of your name, he stills, burying his face in your neck.

For a moment, you lie there, tangled together, your chests heaving as you catch your breaths. The room feels charged, electric, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. The warm, solid weight of Lando's body pressing down on you creates a sense of security and connection, his skin smooth and warm against yours. You run your fingers through his damp curls, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

Lando lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there you’ve never seen before, a softness that makes your heart skip. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, seemingly at a loss for words. "Hey," you whisper, cupping his cheek. "You okay?" He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "More than okay," he murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "That was..."

"Yeah," you nod in agreement.

As the afterglow fades, reality starts to creep back in. Lando shifts, gently pulling away from you, and you both wince slightly at the loss of contact. He disposes of the condom and reaches for his discarded clothes, his movements slow. You sit up, suddenly feeling exposed, and pull a throw blanket over yourself. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering questions. Lando runs a hand through his tousled curls, his gaze flicking to you and then away again. "So..." he starts. You interrupt him, "That happened."

__________________________

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Yeah, it did." His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. "Any regrets?"

You pause, considering. There are so many things to consider.

Your eyes lock with Lando's, searching his face. Despite the vulnerability in his expression, there's a spark of hope there too. You take a deep breath, weighing your words carefully. "No regrets," you finally say, squeezing his hand. "But...this complicates things." Lando nods slowly, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "I know. Max..."

"Yeah," you sigh, the name of your brother hanging heavy between you. "And our friendship.” The air between you feels charged again, but differently this time. There's a tenderness there now, layered beneath the lingering desire. Lando shifts closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"I definitely don't want to lose you," Lando murmurs, his eyes earnest. "As a friend or...whatever this is." You lean into his touch, closing your eyes briefly. "I don't want to lose you either," you admit softly. When you open your eyes again, Lando's gaze is intense, searching.

"So what do we do now?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

[julietsf1]

Love at first fright (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Content: cute, journalist!reader

AN: An early halloween treat 🤍 If you guys have cool costume ideas you’re gonna do lmk! have a lovely day sweeties

_____________________________

I’ve interviewed a lot of athletes over the years—serious, stoic, some even downright boring—but Franco Colapinto? He’s my favorite by far. The guy is a natural on camera, always quick-witted, always charming. And, okay, I’d be lying if I said his smile didn’t make it easier to look forward to these interviews. He’s cute, in that effortless way that pulls you in before you even realize it.

Which is why, when I pitched the idea of interviewing him in a haunted house for Halloween, I wasn’t surprised when he immediately said yes. Franco loves goofing around almost as much as he loves racing.

“So, Franco,” I start, grinning as I hold up my mic, “if you weren’t a racing driver, what would you be doing for Halloween?”

We’re standing at the entrance of the haunted house, the camera crew buzzing around us, adjusting their lights and equipment. Franco’s green eyes flicker with amusement as he shoots a glance at the haunted house looming behind us.

“I think I’d watch a scary movie,” he says, that mischievous grin of his spreading across his face. “Or maybe I’d just go scare Lando during one of his livestreams. Seems like a good use of my time.”

I laugh, already caught up in his energy. This is why I love interviewing him—there’s never a dull moment. “Honestly, I’d pay to see that. But tonight, it’s all about you. Ready to face your fears?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Fears? Me? Please.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s hard not to smile when he’s like this—so playful, so at ease. “We’ll see about that. Let’s get going.”

We step inside, and the door creaks ominously behind us. The camera crew follows, their lights casting long, eerie shadows along the corridor. Fake cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the sound of distant screams echoes through the halls.

“Spooky,” Franco says, looking around with an approving nod. “Nice setup. You pick this place yourself?”

“Of course,” I reply, glancing around. “Only the best for you.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “So much effort. I knew I am your favorite.”

I shoot him a mock glare, even though my heart skips a little at the comment. “You wish, Colapinto.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish,” he quips back, his tone teasing. “I can tell.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on the interview. “Okay, back to business. What’s your biggest weakness—on the track or in a haunted house?”

Franco laughs, the sound echoing in the dimly lit hallway. “Weakness? You’re really trying to get something out of me, aren’t you?”

“It’s my job,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, give me something.”

He shrugs, playing along. “Alright, fine. My biggest weakness? Probably pizza. Or maybe rom-coms.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised but laughing. “I didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“Hey, there’s more to me than racing and being good looking,” he says, his grin widening. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, trying to keep my cool as we walk further into the haunted house. It’s starting to get darker, the lights dimming as the creepy sound effects grow louder. I was starting to question why I chose a haunted house as the perfect location.

We pass through a corridor with skeletons lining the walls, and Franco glances over at me, his eyes gleaming. “You scared yet?”

“Not a chance,” I say, though my heart is starting to race just a little. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Good to know,” he replies, his voice low and teasing. “Just in case, I’m here to protect you, you know.”

I shoot him a sidelong glance, but before I can reply, something rustles in the darkness ahead. I jump a little, and Franco notices, of course.

“Whoa, did you just flinch?” he teases, stepping closer. “I thought you said you weren’t scared.”

“It’s nothing, just my foot itched a little,” I say quickly, brushing it off. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin not faltering. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your bodyguard tonight.”

We keep walking, the camera crew following close behind, but it’s getting harder to focus on the interview with all the random noises and the way Franco keeps inching closer every time something creaks.

“So,” I say, trying to regain control of the situation, “what’s the scariest thing you’ve ever faced in your racing career?”

Franco tilts his head, pretending to think for a moment. “Probably that one time I missed a pit stop and ended up in the wrong garage. I swear, the mechanics looked ready to chase me down.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not scary. That’s just embarrassing.”

“Hey, for a second, I thought I was about to get a wheel thrown at my head,” he jokes. “That’s plenty scary.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang from somewhere behind us, and I instinctively grab Franco’s arm. He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You sure you’re not scared?” he asks, his voice soft but teasing. “Because it kinda seems like you are.”

I shoot him a look, trying to play it cool even though my heart is pounding. “I’m just making sure you’re not the one freaking out.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar, by the way.”

We turn another corner, and I realize the camera crew is no longer with us. I glance around, confused. “Wait… where did they go?”

Franco looks back over his shoulder, frowning. “They were just here. Maybe we lost them in one of the turns.”

“Well, that’s great,” I mutter, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do we do now?”

Franco shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to find them. You okay with being alone with me in a haunted house?”

I snort, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in my stomach. “Please, Colapinto. You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are.”

He steps closer, his grin widening. “Oh, I can make you pretty nervous I think.”

Before I can respond, there’s another loud crash, and something jumps out from the shadows. I scream before I can stop myself, my hand flying to Franco’s arm. He pulls me in closer, his other hand protectively resting on my waist as we both stare at the fake ghost that had startled me.

“Whoa, okay,” Franco says, his voice full of amusement. “I didn’t realize I had to start saving you this early.”

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I try to laugh it off. “I wasn’t scared,” I insist, even though I’m still gripping his arm. “It was just—unexpected.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not buying it. “If you wanted to end up in my arms, you could’ve just asked.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t let go of his arm. “You wish, Colapinto.”

He chuckles softly, his hand still resting on my waist as we stand there for a moment. “Hey, no complaints here. I’m enjoying this hero role.”

We walk a bit further, Franco staying close, and the tension between us feels slightly different from its usual playfulness. Something a bit more loaded.

“Alright,” I say, trying to keep things professional even though I can feel my heart racing. “Let’s find that camera crew before they think we’ve disappeared.”

Franco grins, clearly in no rush. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn up. But hey, at least this gives us some alone time.”

I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you plan to do with this alone time?”

He smirks, leaning in slightly. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

We’ve been walking through this maze of dark hallways and creaking floors for what feels like ages. The air between Franco and me is thick with the usual playful teasing, but there’s something warmer underneath tonight. Something I’m not entirely sure either of us expected.

“So,” Franco says as we reach another eerie corner of the haunted house, “left or right, fearless leader?”

I glance between the two paths, both equally dark and ominous. “Left,” I say with a shrug, though my focus is more on the way Franco’s hand keeps brushing against mine as we stand there.

Without a word, he slips his fingers through mine, giving my hand a light squeeze as we take the left path. The gesture catches me off guard for a second, but it feels natural. Warm.

“You good?” Franco’s voice is soft, his teasing tone still there, but his concern is genuine.

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, I’m just… trying not to trip over a fake skeleton or something.”

He chuckles, and I feel his thumb lightly brush against the back of my hand, his touch gentle. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, feeling a little braver now with him beside me.

We keep moving, our footsteps the only sound echoing through the narrow hallway. The haunted house is definitely doing its job—the creepy sound effects, the flickering lights, and the occasional distant scream have me on edge. But with Franco holding my hand, it’s easier to focus on him rather than the eeriness around us.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes behind us, and I jump, gripping his hand tighter. Franco, always quick with a joke, leans in slightly.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “if you’re looking for an excuse to stay close, you don’t really need one.”

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the way my heart skips. “Oh? Is that your best line?”

He grins, tugging me a little closer. “No, but it’s working, isn’t it?”

I glance up at him, half-amused, half-speechless at his boldness. “You’ve got no shame, do you?”

“None,” he replies, completely unfazed. “I figured you would’ve noticed that by now.”

We round another corner, and the sound of scraping metal rings out from ahead, louder this time. It’s getting harder to keep my cool, and Franco knows it. His hand tightens around mine, and before I can stop myself, I move closer to him again.

“You’re not as fearless as you like to pretend, huh?” Franco teases, though his voice has softened slightly, the flirty edge still there but mixed with something gentler.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I shoot back, trying to sound convincing, even though my heart’s racing a little too fast.

“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. “You’re doing great.”

We walk a few more steps, and then another noise—a low, guttural growl—sounds from behind. I instinctively pull myself closer to Franco, and this time, he doesn’t hold back. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me securely against him.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice, “I get it. You need me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I mutter, though I make no move to step away from him.

Franco grins down at me, his green eyes gleaming. “Too late.”

We walk like that for a bit, Franco’s arm around me, the haunted house feeling a little less overwhelming now that we’re practically glued together. His fingers brush against my side, just enough to send sparks up my spine.

“You know,” Franco says after a moment, his voice lighter, “you’re cute when you’re scared.”

I snort, shaking my head. “I’m not scared. I’m… strategically cautious.”

“Is that what you call it?” He raises an eyebrow, the teasing back in full force. “Because it looks like you’re holding on pretty tight.”

I glance down, realizing that I am, in fact, gripping his arm for dear life. “Shut up.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and low, and I can feel his gaze on me as we continue walking. The haunted house seems quieter now, the eerie sounds fading into the background.

Then, out of nowhere, we turn another corner, and there’s the camera crew. Setting up for the next shot like nothing happened, completely unaware that we’d been wandering around alone for what felt like forever.

“Well,” Franco says, not letting go of my hand just yet, “looks like we’ve been found.”

I laugh, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Good. Now we can finish this interview properly.”

But Franco doesn’t move. Instead, he steps a little closer, his hand still holding mine, his gaze steady and a little more serious than usual. “You know,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t have minded if we got lost for a little longer.”

I meet his gaze, my heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Oh, really?”

He grins, that familiar playful spark returning to his eyes. “Yeah. I was starting to like having you all to myself.”

I’m about to respond with something witty, but before I can, Franco leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. It’s quick, gentle, but it sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the haunted house or Halloween.

He pulls back, grinning down at me, clearly pleased with himself. “You good now?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat up as I try to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Franco squeezes my hand one last time before letting go, stepping back just as the camera crew calls us over. But as we walk toward them, I can’t help but let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. Butterflies having a rave in my stomach.

“You know,” Franco says with a grin as we rejoin the crew, “if you ever want to do another haunted house interview… I’m in.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m sensing some ulterior motives here, Colapinto.”

“Perhaps,” he replies with a wink, his grin wide and full of promise.

[mariasont]

Sundress Season - S.R

a/n: spent all friday & saturday writing so sorry 4 dumping so many works 2night lololol

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer decides to come help you out with some research and gets a little more than he bargained for

warnings: fluff, thigh kink if you SQUINT LIKE SQUINT

wc: 0.9k

You crossed one leg over the other, your nails drumming against the table, while your eyes bored holes into the book that lay open in your lap. You loved reading, more than most people, but when it was something you were interested in, not when the pages were smeared with the arcane symbols of mathematical algorithms that you could not seem to comprehend. It was giving you a migraine. 

At the call of your name, your head lifted abruptly, a welcome excuse the cast aside the loathsome book, expecting your coffee to be awaiting you at the counter. You weren't, however, expecting to see Spencer standing there. Your brows knitted together in a moment of confusion before you face relaxed into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Spence? Hey, what are you doing here?" 

"JJ said you were researching the neural network algorithms," Spencer said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement as he pulled out the chair across from you. "I figured I could lend a hand."

“Oh, bless your heart, Dr. Reid,” you praised, hand dramatically pressed to your heart, “I could kiss you.”

The subtle rosiness that blossomed on Reid’s cheeks didn’t escape your notice, and you couldn’t deny the small thrill of saying things designed to elicit the delightful blush. It was cute.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing towards the book, ignoring your words.

You give a nod and pass it over, his fingers brushing over yours in the process. It was hard not to stare at his face, admittedly, your scientific knowledge (or any knowledge) didn’t rival his, yet surely there was some explanation for why you found him so attractive.

You watched, curiously, as he made quick work of the pages, absorbing the information with the ease of a child flipping through a picture book. Maybe that was it—his intelligence, now that wasn’t far off. I mean, who didn’t want a man who could effortlessly recite pi to the hundredth decimal?

You found yourself following the lines of his face— from the subtle shadows under his eyes to the rhythmic movement of his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he concentrated, down to the soft dip of his lips. God, he was so beautiful. And even that term barely did him justice.

Your blatant starring was broken only when you realized his lips were moving.

“Yeah, totally,” you said, bobbing your head in agreement, clueless to his actual words but hoping you said the right thing.

He regarded you with a puzzled glance, his brow raised while carefully marking his place in the book. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

That famous, gorgeous smile of his spread across his face as his eyes darted around the coffee shop. His fingers patted his cheek thoughtfully in silent, teasing challenge.

“Wait, what?”

“The issue was with adjusting the weight initialization to prevent the vanishing gradient problem,” he remarked with an easy shrug. “Seems like the perfect time for that well-deserved kiss.”

His words sent a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks. Was he serious? You decided you didn’t care. Rising just enough to meet him, you cupped his face and planted a sloppy kiss against his cheek. As your drew back, you couldn’t help but delight in the sight of his ears, now tinted with a charming blush of red.

The intimate bubble burst as the barista’s voice rang out, announcing that your coffee was, in fact, prepared at last. You tapped his nose lightly before standing fully. “My hero.”

Spencer watched with a slack jaw as you walked away from the table, his eyes drawn to your thighs. The air seemed to escape him in a rush, his gaze locked on your outfit, now fully revealed as you stood up. He was so used to seeing you in dress pants, he’d never seen you in a dress, a sundress at that.

He was already burning from the feeling of your lips on his cheek but now it was spreading through every part of him as he traced your curves before landing once again on your supple thighs. God, you were beautiful, and that ass—

He was on the cusp of entertaining some rather less-than-holy ideas when the shrill ring of his phone intervened. He mentally berated the caller, wishing to preserve every detail of your image in his mind. Morgan. Naturally.

He swiped deftly at the phone, realizing it was FaceTime. Morgan’s head filled the screen, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in Spencer’s appearance.

“Morning, lover boy.”

Spencer was unsure what he meant. “Huh?”

Morgan simply flicked his cheek with a smirk. “Looks like ya missed a spot, hot stuff.”

Spencer’s face warmed with a fresh flush, hastily angling the phone away, his fingers working to erase the lipstick stain.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up, man! You on a hot date or something? C’mon, Reid, who’s the lucky lady?”

Once assured his skin was free of the pink evidence, Spencer lifted the phone again. He didn’t get a chance to ask Morgan’s reason for calling, as your face appeared behind him, curiously glancing at the phone.

“Oh, hey Morgan!”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “No way! You’re kidding me! Penelope is going to freak—,”

His words were cut short as Spencer swiftly hung up.

[iannmin]

morning 9:05 — s.hwa | 박성화

pairing: seonghwa x reader wordcount: 0.4k

summary: both of you had a stupid fight, but all it took was the next morning to solve everything <3

a/n: just some realistic seonghwa drabble <3 feel free to leave a comment hehe, enjoy!

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting warm stripes of light across his figurine-filled room. I stirred, blinking groggily as the events of last night came rushing back to my mind—Seonghwa and I had been in the middle of a heated argument over something ridiculous, like who left the empty milk carton in the fridge.

I raised my head to see Seonghwa still asleep, his usually perfect hair sticking out in all directions, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like a grumpy hedgehog (like the Able Sisters in animal crossing) and I couldn’t help but suppress a laugh, which somehow ended up as a snort. His grey pillow was half on the floor, back faced towards me with his black tee half ridden up, exposing his waistline.

I gingerly reached out and poked him in the side, tugging his shirt down in the process. “Hey, grumpy,” I said softly, trying to sound light-hearted. “You awake?”

He groaned, turning towards me, his eyes squinting open. “I’ve been awake for the last ten minutes, trying to figure out how to apologize without sounding like a complete idiot. I just didn’t bother moving.”

I chuckled, stretching my arms above my head. “Well, you’ve already got a good start. Your bedhead is pretty impressive.”

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “Ah, great. I’m turning into a human mop. Just what I needed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I’m sorry about last night. I know it was silly.”

He looked at me with a mix of sheepishness and affection, that irresistible eye smile of his peeking right above the sheets. “I’m sorry too. We really let a milk carton ruin our evening, didn’t we? We were about to have a Lego date…” I nodded sheepishly. In that moment, I didn’t have any reason to be angry anymore.

He grinned, pulling me closer. “yeah, and you know, I really missed our cuddles this morning.”

Before I could respond, he wrapped his arms around my waist with an exaggerated sigh of relief. I tried to wiggle free, but he pulled me into a tight, playful hug, snuggling deeper into me. “No escape,” he said with a mock-serious tone. “I’m making up for all the snuggles I missed.” I laughed as he tucked me under his chin, my head resting against the crook of his neck. His hands slipped underneath the back of my pajamas, gently tracing circles on my bare back, his touch both soothing and affectionate.

Seonghwa let out a contented sigh, his breath warm against my hair. “I missed this. Just being close to you, without all the drama…..forgive me please?”

I couldn’t help but snuggle into him. “Alright, alright. I suppose I can forgive you, especially if you promise not to leave any more milk cartons lying around.”

“Deal,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But if I do, you’ll have to deal with my bedhead.”

I looked up at him, smiling. “I think I can manage that. After all, I kind of like your bedhead. It makes you look stupidly adorable.”

<3

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (1)

Summary: You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the rite of profane ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found. Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back in Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+. Endgame spoilers. Blood drinking. Mutual pining. Biting. S*xual tension. Mentions of past trauma.

Series masterlist . AO3

"He's upstairs."

You nodded curtly, but before you could turn in your heels and head to the wooden staircase, you felt a hand grip at your arm.

"He hasn't been paying his due," Bork, the Blushing Mermaid tavern's publican, said with a rise of his brows.

"Noble room again?"

"Yes."

As expected. Astarion would sooner be caught dead again than having to stay at a merchant or peasant room.

He adored all things lavish and that extended to his accommodations, naturally.

"I'll cover for it," you said, snatching your arm away. "How much?"

He bared his yellow teeth. "Thirty gold pieces."

You felt Shadowheart's burning gaze on you. She didn't approve of you cleaning after him. Especially since her protective instinct dragged her along with you every single time.

"Very well," you said through gritted teeth, rummaging through your pouch, and handing him the expected amount. 

"Good," the older man said with a twirl of his kitchen knife. "If your pale friend does it again, he's done for."

Threats like this would usually warrant you to bare your dagger or cast a less friendly spell, but you couldn't afford to cause a scene.

Not in front of so many onlookers. 

You felt Shadowheart briefly tense up by your side. "Do hurry up. I shall wait for you."

Nodding, you gave her an assuring nod before heading up the staircase. 

The first floor was reserved for the highest paying customers, and it was heavily decorated and with candles spreading along the narrow corridor.

You paced quickly along the wooden floor, already knowing where to find him.

Room 7.

At this point, you were already over common pleasantries, so you skipped knocking at the door and just barged inside.

You heard a sleepy groan from the crimson bed placed at the centre of the luxurious room.

Astarion wasn't alone.

He was laying on top of the silk sheets, flipping through a book, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden appearance. Curiously enough, he was fully clothed, wearing a frill shirt and his regular trousers. 

However, the woman next to him was very much fully naked, with only a blanket draping over her bare torso.

The sight made your stomach twist and turn.

"Hello, darling," he said casually as if you had just walked in on him picking flowers. 

She peeked over her shoulder with a horrified look spreading across her pleasant face.

Of course she was extremely attractive.

She let out a shriek. "Do you mind?"

"No," you said dryly.

She immediately rolled out of bed, shooting a murderous glance your way, while scrambling to collect her belongings from the carpeted floor.

The door snapped shut behind her, and you were already pacing toward his bedside table once you spotted his coinpurse.

"Happy, are you? You scared her off, poor thing," he shook his head, feigning disapproval.

"You owe me."

You reached out to grab the thick pouch, but caught sight of the glint of a blade and the cool touch of metal being pressed gently against the back of your hand. 

Typical.

"Ah-ah-ah..." he tutted with a click of his tongue. "Where are your manners?"

He seemed very serious all of a sudden, but you knew better. "I'll hex you."

"Faster than me piercing through your skin?" he asked, tapping the flat side of the blade playfully on your skin.

You really did consider hexing him for a split second just out of spite. "You overestimate your abilities."

"And you could have cursed me already, but are too lost in my dashing good looks."

Your jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"That lovely mouth of yours could never compete with my agile fingers."

The insinuation wasn't even subtle, and it was enough to make your blood boil.

You scowled deeply at him, shoving his dagger out of the way. "Thirty gold pieces."

He slipped the blade under his pillow again with a devious grin.

"Bork was rather eager to have at you, so I just paid him. Maybe next time I won't intervene."

"And what would he do? Kill me again?"

Point taken.

A dangerous smile danced across his lips. "And here I thought you intended to start charging me for our arrangement."

You glared at him intensely, feeling momentarily outraged. "You're the one profiting off of it. Entirely."

"Hmm, debatable."

You narrowed your eyes. "If anything, you should be paying me, no?"

He snatched the coinpurse from your grasp, tugging it open before handing you a few gold pieces. 

"Here you go, darling. Sixty gold pieces," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Buy yourself a new attire, while you're at it."

You glanced down the length of your body, arching a brow and straightening your shirt and trousers. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Astarion scoffed. "I don't even know where to begin, but do not fret. You could be wearing nothing but a rotting sack of potatoes, and I would still not be deterred from your neck."

You pressed your lips tightly together, and glanced at the gold pieces in your hand. "Your sweet-talking skills have been slightly below par as of late."

He chuckled, crossing his hands behind his head and against the meticulously wooden-carved headboard. "Yet here you are."

Not that you had much of a choice, really.

Halving the sum of money he had given you, you shoved the rest in your pocket while placing the other half on the table.

"Keep it."

"Don't be ridiculous," you groaned.

"Working on your flattery, I see?"

He was enjoying this far too much, and the more you talked back, the more you instigated him to continue.

"Why don't you just pay him when he asks for it?"

"Oh, darling…"

Here we go…

He was casually checking his hands, putting on his condescending demeanour. "Patience is a virtue he clearly lacks. If I'm to live eternally, I might as well teach these commoners some manners."

"Or you just adore getting on people's nerves," you said with a sly smile.

He grinned so wide, you caught a glimpse of his razor-sharp fangs peeking through. "You know me too well."

You used to think so.

Now, you weren't so sure.

Clearing your throat, you looked around the dimly lit room until your eyes settled on the large majestic bed. "She was really pretty."

"You sound surprised."

"Not at all. She does fit your type."

He laughed dramatically, further grinding your nerves. "I have a type?"

You gave him a look.

"You mean outrageously beautiful and undeniably entertaining?" he asked innocently. "Like you?"

Your heart jolted.

His method of seduction was deemed nigh pristine, and a few weeks ago, you would have maybe fallen hard for this level of charm.

But not anymore.

Well, for the most part…

"She was not outrageously beautiful."

He placed on hand at his chest, feigning hurt. "First you rob me, and now you question my taste in beauty. I'm not entirely sure my dead heart can take much more of this."

You huffed, crossing your arms before glancing out the window. The full moon lit up the street below, as the night began to draw out those who preferred to keep to the shadows.

And those who had no choice but to do so.

Like Astarion.

"I didn't do it."

His voice startled you and you stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He paused briefly. "I didn't do anything with her, if that's what you're thinking. There is an odd comfort in being surrounded by beauty, even if only to glare at, and nothing else."

Your heart clenched at how vulnerable he sounded all of a sudden. His pleasing face held an expression that you'd seen many times before…

Guilt.

The ripple effects of centuries of torture and abuse still slipped through the cracks of his usual pompous demeanour.

"Your personal matters are your own, Astarion. No need to justify yourself."

He stared at you in silence for a moment, and the urge to reach out to embrace him nearly took over.

Until his features began to twist into a light frown. "Don't look at me like that. I can't stand it."

"Like what?"

"That look. Pity. Spare me," he groaned with a roll of his eyes.

You weren't surprised in the slightest that he went into his defensive mode so rapidly.

He would fluctuate so often around you these days, that it gave you whiplash. Some days, he would let his guard down and allow you in, while others were plagued with him having a brick wall up around him if you happened to breathe in the wrong direction.

You had learned how to navigate through his tough exterior when the two of you traveled together, and as he opened more and more to you.

It all culminated when you offered your help against Cazador, and having him make the decision not to go through with the ritual that would doom so many souls – including his own — in the process.

He had thanked you for saving him from himself.

But nowadays, talking to him was like walking on eggshells while simultaneously dancing around his weathervane mood.

It was as if your relationship had somewhat soured over the past few weeks, and all the remnants of a solid friendship were now beginning to crack.

"You know, you don't have to be here," you said softly, trying to disperse the tension. "You are more than welcome to stay with us."

Astarion snickered darkly. "And having to endure that dullard? Please. I'd rather stake myself, darling."

You rolled your eyes and heaved a sigh at the targeted provocation.

"Gale is not a dullard. He is quite inter-"

But he began to part his mouth into a forced yawn. "Boring already! See, this is what happens when you choose to surround yourself with such unstimulating company – it spreads, and you used to be so much fun," he finished with a dramatic pout.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sent him a death glare. "He's not the only one there."

There was a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Oh, yes! How could I forget Shadowheart and her magnificent ability to bore me." He swung his feet off the bed, standing gracefully. "Or perhaps you mean Lae'zel? She's clearly in debt to whichever god bestows a sense of humour."

An added layer of defense: sarcasm.

No one wielded it quite like Astarion, which also proved to be a major inconvenience when trying to win an argument. 

I'm also there, you wanted to say, but chose to remain silent.

Deep down, you detested how you still longed for his company. Even after so many weeks had gone by. Even when he seemed so averse to it outside of this… arrangement.

Your relationship had been reduced to nothing more than a transaction.

Once again.

Your blood for his hunger to be quenched even if only momentarily.

"Or are you referring to yourself?" he mused, pacing towards you while adjusting his shirt.

It was extremely infuriating that he could see through you so easily.

"Let's get this over with, then," you said, words stinging in your throat.

He offered a faint smile, as he came to stand before you. "I must say, our weekly encounters are nothing short of exciting," he brought his fingers to your jaw, tilting your head gently as his eyes roamed across your neck. "And I am positively famished."

You felt a gentle tug at the collar or your shirt, and glanced down to see him undoing the buttons with just one hand. 

All those years of honing his dexterity were bound to come in handy at the most convenient of times,  and Astarion would never shy away from displaying his expertise.

Your senses were suddenly hit with the faint scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy.

His scent.

The same that once brought you comfort through the toughest of times.

But now…

"Which side will it be this time?"

You swallowed hard, shuddering. "You decide."

He caressed your neck tenderly, tipping your head to the opposite side, half-hooded eyes roaming across your exposed skin.

"Ever so generous."

You huffed in annoyance. "Astarion."

He didn't need to be warned twice, and you soon felt his soft lips brush across your skin, as he searched for your steady pulse. The contact made you jolt slightly and he took your hands in his, placing them at his waist.

"Hold on, darling," he whispered, as his breath fanned your flushed skin, before darting out his agile tongue and enclosing his lips around the selected area.

You had let him feed on you many times before, but the flutter was ever present. It wasn't out of fear or concern that he might take it too far. He never did. But the knowledge that you were, once again, involved in something so intimate truly gnawed at your nerves.

As soon as you felt the initial sting, you balled your fists, gripping the fabric of his shirt tight, as you hissed in pain. 

He held your jaw in between his fingers whilst his other hand was firmly pressed to the back of your head, making sure you were anchored in place.

Astarion moaned first – a muffled and deep sound that reverberated across his lips with each mouthful of blood he downed.

Your eyes dropped close all of a sudden and he  pressed his body against yours, acting purely on the instinct driven by his bloodlust. 

And just like all those times before, you began to feel it.

With each passing second, the all too familiar and ever-growing pressure in your lower abdomen became harder and harder to ignore.

He had once revealed how your blood worked like an aphrodisiac whenever he drank from you; how he couldn't keep his body from reacting to it, and, ultimately, to you. After all, you had been the first thinking creature he had ever fed on. 

As such, you had grown accustomed to his erection being pressed firmly against you – a constant reminder of how easy it was for him to make you yearn for more.

Whatever pain you had left from the initial bite, had morphed into a very subtle wave of pleasure that spread from between your legs.

You cursed inwardly, tugging harder at his shirt.

You didn't wish for your body to be so… primal. 

Even with blood being drained from you, and the act itself being considered so profane, it was still a much welcome moment of intimacy that you had come to embrace. 

A soft roll of his hips lulled you into him like a moth to a flame. Your body struggled with fading from the blood loss as well with the increasing throb between your thighs.

At this point, you couldn't help but moan softly as he eased his grip on you until he had fully withdrawn his teeth from you. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you had to blink twice to disperse the haziness blurring your vision.

Crimson red tainted his lips, and droplets of the warm liquid threatened to spill over. The sight of him revelling in your blood used to make your stomach turn, but now it had morphed into a habit.

But what truly caught your attention was how he looked faintly… displeased?

He lowered his head, crimson eyes locking in with yours. 

"That was quick," you whispered, struggling to ease your throbbing clit, as his erection was still very much pressed against you.

But now he was frowning. 

Suddenly, you felt experienced fingertips trailed across your lower abdomen, casually teasing the hem of your waistband.

You sucked in a breath, chills sprawling all over your body, as he began to trace down your thigh, just where your dagger was resting.

"What are you–"

He pressed a long finger to his blood-stained lips and you swallowed, his eyes darkening. "We have company."

Before you could process his words, you felt your dagger being yanked swiftly from its sheath. With a languid shift of his feet, you watched as he threw the sharp blade across the room.

Just as it cut through the air, the large wooden door began to swing open and Shadowheart came into view.

The dagger landed dangerously close to her head, the tip carving into the wood and wobbling faintly.

She frowned slightly. "You missed."

He darted out his tongue to collect droplets of blood. "Did I?"

She looked positively unimpressed by such a display of skill, even one that could have easily maimed her.

But he had deliberately missed.

Of course he had.

You caught a glimpse of Astarion's reddened ears – the ultimate proof that he had recently fed, and one that, somehow, sent a shiver down your spine.

The bloodless effect was also beginning to take a hold of your body, as dizziness spread more and more.

Snapping out of your transfixed gaze, you hurriedly brought the handkerchief in your pocket to apply some pressure to your bleeding wound.

"Stealth was never your forte, darling," Astarion mused, visibly annoyed. "You're about as subtle as a pack of gnolls."

A teasing smile parted her lips. "You have such a way with words."

He grinned deviously. "It's called being eloquent, dear Shadowheart. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"I was taught to converse with others without constantly resorting to sarcasm," she mused, hurling your dagger back at him. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

As expected, he caught it in between his fingers with little to no effort, twirling it easily with the expertise that only centuries of practice could provide.

He clicked his tongue. "No wonder you're so tedious. But… eavesdropping? My, my… how unbecoming of you, darling."

A flash of surprise crossed her face. "I - I was doing no such thing! I merely decided to make sure everything was all right." Her face softened as she turned to you, her usual caring nature surfacing. "Do you need any healing?"

You smiled warmly at her, patting the pouch at your hip. "No need, thank you. Brought the scroll of Lesser Restoration you gave me."

Astarion scoffed.

Shadowheart ignored him. "I ought to go. Gale needs my assistance with some letters he's received from Waterdeep," she said, straightening up to her default stoic pose. "I trust you're quite done here."

You nodded, clearing your throat.

"What, you're not joining us for a nibble?" Astarion pouted dramatically.

"Over my dead body."

He looked as amused as ever. "That can certainly  be arranged. Though I prefer fresh blood… right from the source."

Her features hardened once more and you decided to intervene. "Will you stop it? You're like a cat with its claws out."

Astarion snapped his head at you. "Excuse me? Claws?"

"Would it kill you - well, again - not to be so damn abrasive all the time?" 

He groaned sheepishly. "She interrupted my feeding. It can be quite hard to resist the urge to behead her."

Shadowheart's gaze dropped to his lower half with the slightest uptick of one corner of her mouth. "By the looks of it, Astarion, you have other hardships to concern yourself with."

A rush of heat spread across your face as you followed her line of sight and were met by the very prominent outline of his erection strained against his trousers.

He turned around, mumbling curses under his breath to adjust himself, and Shadowheart looked at you with a triumphant smile.

It wasn't an easy feat to silence Astarion, yet she had achieved it so gracefully.

"I'll see you later, I suppose," she mused and you nodded. "It was rather entertaining seeing you again, Astarion."

He threw her an infuriating glance over his shoulder.

By the time she had closed the door behind her, you were already taking the scroll into your hands and whispering the incantation, as the paper scroll began to disintegrate itself.

A wave of warmth spread through your hands, before engulfing your body in it. Strength and heightened senses gradually returned to you as the lasting effects of him feeding on you dispersed. 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted him glaring at you with a visible sulk. 

"I'll come back next week."

"Leaving already?" He asked, fake heartbreak twisting his features and voice. "Was wondering if you could, perhaps, give me a hand."

He handed you your dagger, which you promptly slid back inside its sheath.

Your eyes then widened at his not so subtle suggestion.

Uncertainty boiled deep within you, and you had to muster your will to keep yourself from immediately leaving.

Astarion's healing path had been one he had decided to tread alone. The relationship he had with sex had been the reason you two had decided to be as friends and nothing more. You had fallen hard for him – or his deceit – but you figured what he truly needed was a friend and not a lover.

And so you left your infatuation for him behind.

It was better off this way.

But now… watching him fall back to his usual charming advances made you somewhat wary. Was he back to forcing himself to seek intimacy with his body, because he still couldn't do it effectively in any other way? Was he simply feeling more at ease?

You met his sultry gaze and cleared your throat. "Well, I'm sure you can ask that outrageously beautiful woman to help you out, if that is what you truly seek."

That seemed to have caught him by surprise, and he cocked his head. "What?"

"She seemed positively distraught for having to leave your company so early," you said, dragging the handkerchief down your neck to wipe off the trail of blood.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, darling?"

"Delusion does not suit you, darling."

He took a few steps towards you until you could see the crimson of his eyes flicker as they studied your face.

Your stomach turned.

The proximity made you feel vulnerable and you immediately felt naked under his burning gaze. 

Astarion had over two centuries of practice when it came to reading others. It wasn't an easy feat to deceive him, and you were no exception.

"We traveled together for so long and I can safely say I never took you for a liar – perhaps too soft-hearted for my liking, but not a liar."

"I did not lie," you shot back, lifting your chin in defiance. "I can offer you my friendship and even my blood, but I'm not so sure about anything else."

He heaved a deep sigh.

"I just fed on you and the bloodlust can be quite… overwhelming," he confessed. "I usually take care of it myself, but you did taste absolutely exquisite tonight, what can I say?"

That caught you off guard.

"What do you mean? Take care of…" your voice trailed off as realization hit you.

Oh.

Oh.

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Don't act so surprised. You can feel it whenever I'm feeding, can't you?" He took another step back and only came to a halt once your back was pressed against the carved-wood wall. "There is only so much I can withstand with your delicious blood coursing through my body, darling."

You swallowed hard. 

He was being particularly firm on his advances tonight. You were used to his occasional flirtatious remarks whenever he fed on you ever since the arrangement took place. However, this was bringing things to a whole new level.

One that you hadn't expected you'd reach ever again with him.

Somehow, you managed to find your voice. "Maybe you should stop feeding on me, then?"

A weightless taunt, obviously.

Crimson eyes darted all over your face as if studying you. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, before the corner of his mouth curled into an intriguing smile.

He had seen immediately right through it.

"If that is what you wish, then so be it," he said in a rather dismissive tone, but still towering over you.

You arched a brow. "That's it?"

"Darling, as immortal as I am, I do not beg," he continued, now tracing around the fresh bite marks on your skin with uncharacteristic tenderness. "I will surely find other exquisite necks to sink my teeth into."

His words carried a hint of a threat, which unsettled you. 

"That was not the arrangement, Astarion," you said with a scowl. "It's either wild animals or my blood."

His fingertips paused at your pulse point, and you were certain he could feel the throbbing increasing rapidly. "How possessive of you, my dear," he mused playfully. "Although, I am quite sure you are aware that many do carry fantasies with vampires."

You pressed your lips together in a silent reply.

A man as attractive as Astarion was bound to allure all sorts of attention. When passing through Moonrise Towers, the drow Araj had tried to have him bite her in exchange for a rather powerful potion, but you had assured him that you did not demand anything against his will.

The memory still left a sour taste in your mouth.

But he did have a point.

Vampires could be regarded as a taste of the forbidden, and he could certainly deliver it.

"That was not the arrangement," you repeated through gritted teeth, deciding to ignore his previous remark.

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant.

"'The arrangement'," he mocked, inching near and pinning you frozen against the wall with the weight of his burning stare. "Does dear Wyll know that I haven't been exclusively feeding on wild animals? Because that was the arrangement, darling," his face drew closer and his cool breath fanned your skin.

Upon becoming Duke of Baldur's Gate, Wyll had agreed to allow Astarion to reside within its walls, but not without assuring he posed no danger to others.

But then you decided to volunteer in aiding him until a solution to his vampiric condition could be found. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to find something useful. 

Your research had led to a couple of enchanted items, but those were rare to come by. A wish spell seemed to be the easiest way, but even as a sorcerer and with Gale's help, it would be extremely challenging.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "He does. He knows blood from thinking creatures sates you more effectively, so he allows it for the time being."

He scoffed, dropping his hand from your neck. "How very thoughtful of him, indeed."

"This is what friends do."

He sneered at you. "Friends do not hand out ultimatums. Care to revive my memory?" His lips almost brushed against yours and you didn't dare take a breath. "I am to wag my tail like an obedient pup as I wait for a solution to this minor inconvenience, all the while enclosed in a golden cage."

Impatience gripped your nerves ferociously. "These things take time, Astarion."

"Oh, my darling… I have all the time in the world, but you only have a limited supply of blood," he whispered softly and you could almost taste his taunting words.

He drew back slightly, his glare so intense you felt yours waver and drop, catching a glimpse of his sharp canines. "We are actively looking for a solution. Gale is also making some progress-"

He pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I am faulting you," he said, his face suddenly softening, as he caressed your lower lip. "If anything, you are the only reason I was ever able to kill Cazador."

He was being sincere, and that was what made your heart drop to your stomach. 

"You have my eternal gratitude."

You shuddered under his touch, feeling your breath quicke, as his other hand trailed down your neck until it was resting just above your left breasts and beating heart.

He was too good at this…

Unfairly so.

"Wyll ought to allocate more of his resources into aiding me, don't you think? After all, you are the one at risk here," he continued. "I know he cares not for me, but I could have ascended and bent Baldur's Gate to my will… if not for your intervention."

"I'm not at risk," you said with a roll of your eyes. "And if you drink more than what you need, then you know the consequences."

His eyes dropped to your cleavage as he began to caress the flushed skin. With each deep breath you took, you pushed more of your breasts into him, further igniting the heat between your legs.

"Promises, promises… unfortunately for you, darling, your words don't match your body."

Fuck you. "You're impossible."

He slowly dipped his head until his lips grazed yours. "You would stake me?"

Never. 

"I would."

He chuckled. "You would stake me as I sink my teeth into your darling neck and feast on your divine blood?" 

No. "Yes."

But his smile only widened as amusement settled on his face. "I can't think of a better way to part this world for good."

Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, and he rolled his hips into you, earning a soft gasp.

You half-expected him to finally take your lips, but he tilted his head instead to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

And your body nearly imploded as old sensations resurfaced.

Fuck.

"You're so sweet…" he whispered with a sigh, as he began to graze along your jaw, taking your hands in his and planting them on his waist. "So warm… the gods above could never do you justice." He continued in between light kisses with his hips matching the pace.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you lost track of how eagerly your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing impatiently against the waistband of his trousers.

Astarion groaned softly, helping you with the inconvenient lacing at the front. "And here I thought I was the starving one."

He always talked way too much and had a natural talent for doing so at the least opportune time. 

"Can you shut up for once?"

"Gladly," he said as he quickly took your lips in his, muffling your groan of protest.

Reason told you to halt everything once. That you were taking things too fast, and that there was no need to indulge in such depravities.

But you had missed this.

You missed having him so close that he completely overtook your senses. 

The kiss turned rougher and his tongue soon found yours. Instinct guided you as you succumbed to the vicious grip of desire, and you pressed yourself further into him.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you already were and how intensely your swollen clit was pulsing. Your body was already readying itself for him to be buried inside you, and you shuddered at the prospect of it.

Your tongue darted into his mouth and your eagerness had it glide across one of his sharp fangs, and you felt a sting of pain as you accidentally drew blood.

"Fuck," you grumbled, breaking the kiss at once.

The familiar taste of metal began to pool in your mouth, and you felt gentle fingers grip your jaw tight, as he titled your head back.

"I would apologise, but it was your own doing," he said with a smile, hunger in his eyes. "So let's not allow it to go to waste, hm?"

And then he pressed his lips against yours, immediately parting them with his experienced tongue, in search of the warm liquid he so badly craved.

The cut wasn't deep or wide enough to cause much to spill, but it was certainly enough for him to let out a beautiful moan of delight, as he lapped at your blood.

Your hands gripped the front of his trousers, the lacing now undone and offering you the opportunity to feel him, and he was kissing you so ardently, that your mind was completely clouded by all of him.

Testing the waters, you caressed his cock through the fabric.

He immediately parted from you to let out a delicious hiss, as he rolled his hips into the palm of your hand.

Astarion was incredibly hard, but just as you were about to slide it inside to grip him, he caught your wrist and held it firmly in place.

And everything halted all at once.

Your eyes found his, and he seemed… distant.

Concern washed over you. "Astarion?"

He was frozen, eyes fixed on the floor.

As he eased his grip on you, it became apparent that he wasn't listening to you.

Fuck.

You brought one hand to grip his shoulder. "Astarion…"

He shook his head lightly. "Give me a moment, darling."

The way the last word drawled out of his lips, made your heart clench violently. It was so instinctive for him, that you doubted he even realised he had uttered it.

You stood still, unsure of what to do to help.

The two of you remained silent for a few moments. You kept your hold on his shoulder, gently caressing it in an attempt to bring him some comfort.

Then you felt rage swirl in you.

Cazador had warped him in such a way and for so long, that the ramifications of his abuse on Astarion seeped so deep and gripped him so tight, causing you to feel nothing but anger.

You took a deep breath, and carefully placed your hands on either side of his face, slowly guiding him to meet your eyes.

He looked broken.

"I apologise."

You caressed his cool skin with your thumbs, shaking your head. "There is nothing to apologise for. Ever. Do you hear me?"

He tilted his head until his forehead touched yours. "I really wanted this."

Even though the two of you had grown apart over the past few weeks as he had distanced himself, you couldn't think of anyone else who had such a hold on you.

With one hand drifting along his soft curls, you pulled him further into a hug, which he promptly embraced, lacing his hands behind your back.

This was your Astarion.

The one who made it so easy to love and care for him.

"Sometimes what we want is not what we need."

His cheek was pressed to the side of your head and you heard a faint chuckle. "So poetic. I reckon Volo has competition."

"Your mind goes to Volo when holding me? Is there something you wish to tell me, Astarion?" you teased lightly.

He patted your back twice before letting go.

"Guilty as charged," he mused, slipping back into his usual antics.

He crossed the room, tying the laces of his trousers before plopping himself on the bed with a stretch of his arms.

"I'm sure you're exhausted. Maybe you should go back to that dullard friend of yours," he said with a sly grin.

His words hit you hard and your face dropped. "I can stay a little longer…"

He picked up the book next to him, examining the cover. "Whatever for? I'm perfectly fine, darling."

Now, this was not your Astarion.

Cold. Distant. Impenetrable.

The one who pushed you away whenever you attempted to bridge the gap that had come in between you two. 

He focused his attention on the book in his hands and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Very well."

You composed yourself, and headed to the door, not even bothering to exchange another look.

"Thank you for the meal, and for… well, you know."

You nodded, feeling the overwhelming urge to just leave. "See you next week, then."

He didn't reply.

You rushed out of the room, feeling the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes, and you tried to convince yourself it was better off this way.

That he needed time and space.

That he didn't need you.

By the time you crossed the crowded lounge of the tavern, you crossed paths with that woman again.

She locked eyes with you, a faint smile curving her lips, as she rose to her feet from her chair, probably heading back to him.

She truly was a sight to behold, no doubt.

But what tore your heart was realising that, even after everything you'd been through with Astarion, he still favoured her company over yours. 

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